


Survival of the Fittest

by AliceBB



Series: Fear the Walking Dead Al and Isabel [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cliffhangers, Coercion, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Friendship, Friendship/Love, One-Liners, Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Secrets, Spooky, True Love, Unrequited Crush, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceBB/pseuds/AliceBB
Summary: Alicia is still healing from her wound when Morgan brings back a new friend. Someone Alicia hardly expected to see again or so soon. Can she now get the answer to the question she most needs or will the price for that knowledge be too high no matter what she thinks she's willing to pay? And why can't she get Al out of her head?Meanwhile, Al and Isabel have barely started to find their way together when the same master manipulator playing Alicia contrives to have them banished. Finding a new safe place wasn't that hard, in fact it's really rather nice; except for the ghost.Into all of this rides a weird little woman with a big hat and an even bigger attitude. Are her keys to the future something that's good for everyone or just her? How do her close held secrets connect to CRM and that haunted old house?Where are you? I'm still here...Continuation of my previous story. Hopefully the unanswered questions left over from The Beginning of Everything will be answered.





	1. Where Are You?

Alicia was dreaming.

The tall grass surrounding her tickled her palm when she extended her hand. The sun behind her was bright and low in the sky. Ahead, her long shadow led up a slight hill. Alicia followed walking slowly, deliberately. She heard the horses before she saw them.

At the top of the rise she could look down into a broad valley. Horses, too numerous to count, milled around. Some were saddled, some not. Barely visible in between the horses were people. Alicia narrowed her eyes staring.

She felt she could almost recognize someone; recognize the voice calling. Straining, she could just hear the words, _“where are you?”_

One of the people seemed to be walking toward her, separating from the group of horses and humans. Alicia’s breath caught in her throat and she started running down the hill.

“Mom?! I’m right here!”

“Hey, whoa, Alicia!”

A strong hand took hold of hers and Alicia’s foggy vision made out a dark, male face beside her.

“She’s not here, I’m sorry.”

Alicia breathed out and looked away from Strand. The dream was receding and her memory returning.

“Where is she?” Alicia tried to sit up.

“Your mother?” Strand moved to block her with a hand on her chest. “She’s not…”

“Not my mom, that woman.” Alicia gave up struggling and lay back on the bed. Try as she might her body had no energy.

“What woman?” Strand held a cup of water against her lower lip urging her to drink. “June said you need to be still. If you don’t the bleeding might start again.”

Alicia said nothing for a moment or so, just sipped water. Her dry throat began to feel better and her next words were not so strained.

“The woman that shot me.”

Strand sat back, rubbed a hand over his face. “I think she’s gone. We thought we heard the helicopter just before we got back. I’m not sure,” he looked thoughtful. “Al didn’t say. If she’s not gone then she’s dead.”

“I hope not.” Alicia stirred, tried again to sit up. “I need to get up. I have to…”

“You have to do nothing!” June said from the door. She moved quickly around to the other side of the bed and gently pushed Alicia back against the pillows. “Be still. It took a long time to stop the bleeding and you lost a lot of blood.”

Alicia closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Pain was pushing at the edge of consciousness. Invading her mind and making it hard to think.

“Hurts,” was all she could manage.

June was injecting the contents of a syringe into the IV line that led to Alicia’s elbow. “Just relax. I’ve given you more pain medication.”

Gentle fingers smoothed the hair back from her brow and Alicia breathed slowly but steadily. After a few minutes she felt the stinging edge of the pain retreat. Then the drowsiness began.

“Where is Al?” Alicia fought hard to ask.

“She’s still out there with Isabel,” Strand answered. “We think they’re taking a honeymoon.”

The smile behind his words was the last thing Alicia remembered before the medication took her under.

**Around the same time**

Al came slowly awake. She felt calm, safe and wonderfully warm. She was breathing in a soft scent and hair tickled her nose. The scent was clean, appealing; the scent of someone feminine and intimate. Al breathed deeply; the aroma was also softly arousing.

She was pressed against a warm, still body her hand on a bare thigh. And the skin next to her was oh, so soft. Al’s hand moved of its own accord moving up the long thigh and over the sharp hip that her own groin was spooned tightly against. Her fingers trailed across a flank and ribs, then down over a firm abdomen. When the tips of Al’s fingers reached the top of her pubic mound Isabel stirred.

“Hey,” Isabel shifted onto her back. Her fingers wove through Al’s hair, across her ear and around the back of her neck drawing Al down for a long sleepy kiss.

“Hey, yourself,” Al said when she could breathe again.

They stared at each other in the wane light.

“Is it morning?” Isabel looked past Al to the side windows of the MRAP.

“I dunno, don’t care.” Al laid her cheek on Isabel’s chest wiggled her lower body until she felt the other woman’s legs embrace her. “Umm, I could sleep like this forever.”

“Who said anything about sleep?” Al felt Isabel’s soft laugh under her cheek.

“How many times have we…?”

“Dunno, don’t care. Just want more.” When Al raised her head, Isabel was grinning, her eyes a sexy playful that Al was beginning to appreciate. “I’m thirsty though.” Isabel began to reach for a nearby water bottle so Al sat up.

They shared the water Al sitting between Isabel’s raised knees. Setting the empty bottle aside, Isabel reached out to touch Al’s neck where it joined her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” the back of Isabel’s finger stroked gently over small welts.

“What?” Al touched the same place, felt the slight sting. “Oh,” Al was remembering Isabel’s mouth on her neck and her breath harsh in her ear. They had been kneeling, Isabel behind Al one hand touching Al from the front her other hand from behind reaching down and inside. And the pleasure caused her to arch her back into Isabel and let out a…

“I made you howl, my beautiful Al.” Isabel was grinning again.

Al felt herself blush.

“I hope that’s for my corny poetry and not embarrassment.” Isabel touched the tip of Al’s nose and then her bottom lip. “You were beautiful the way you…”

“The way I just let go.” Al’s fingertips followed Isabel’s jawline down her neck, her chest, between her breasts and down her abdomen. “No thinking, just feeling.” Where her fingers stopped at Isabel’s pelvic bone just above her pubic hair, Al could see a tattoo. It was three words and a symbol in a flowing script.

“You’ve never been able to feel that before,” Isabel was watching Al trace the tiny words.

“No, I haven’t,” Al met her lover’s eyes. “I’ve never been with anyone I wanted to…” Breaking off Al looked away. Isabel remained silent letting her work it out. “Anyone I thought I could… Anyone I wanted to trust that much.”

Al said the last looking at Isabel and blinking against tears. Before Isabel could wipe them away, Al shifted downward until her head rested on Isabel’s belly, her fingers lightly caressing Isabel’s pubic mound and the tattoo beside it.

“I know what you mean,” Isabel said and Al felt her sigh.

“Have you ever been in love?” Al asked. She could almost make out the words inked into Isabel’s skin.

“A couple of times I thought so, but it didn’t work out.” Isabel’s arm around Al’s shoulders tightened. “I always just thought it would happen, you know.”

“Do I ever,” Al felt herself smiling. “We really are the same kind of bird.”

When Isabel laughed her lower belly rippled and Al finally got a clear look at the inked words and the small red heart after them.

_Where are you? _

Al took in a breath to speak, hesitated. Sitting up she looked at Isabel then at her finger as she traced the words.

_Where are you?_

Isabel seemed to be calmly waiting. When Al looked at her again, Isabel’s eyes were gentle but serious. This was meaningful, deeply meaningful and, for a moment, Al thought it might be better to just say nothing then to say the wrong thing_. I’m not the only one with layers… and trust issues_, she thought.

For Al her world was about images and the stories of others, and her inner world was about her heart and protecting her true self. Isabel was different. Her world, as Al understood it, was duty and loyalty, and the freedom of flying. At least it had been before they met. Isabel’s inner self Al was only beginning to know, beginning to see how she expressed herself with words. Words on paper, words drawn in ink.

“’_Where are you?_’” Al touched Isabel’s chest just over and beside her left breast. “I’m here, right here with you, but I hope I can be here,” Al tapped Isabel’s chest, “here in your heart.”

Isabel closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When her eyes opened again there were tears at their corners. Al touched their foreheads together. “I know you’re in mine. In my heart and in my blood.”

Al kissed Isabel long and slow then laid her head on Isabel’s chest where she could feel her heartbeat.

Time passed. Enough that with her slow even breathing, Al thought Isabel might have fallen asleep.

“It’s another poem,” Isabel said softly. “I wrote it when I was a teenager when I wanted so badly to be in love. Then when I was older, and could have all the girls I wanted, I rewrote a couple verses and it was not just about physical love, but more about true connection. How our bodies can so easily connect and we convince ourselves that’s all we need. We forget that our heart needs to be part of it too. If we don’t have that, our soul suffers for it.”

“You’d like my therapist, Carmen,” Al said. “She explained it as puzzle pieces. Told me one of mine was missing. She told me she hoped I’d meet someone, sometime that gave me that piece to make me complete.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Al poked Isabel in the belly button. “She’s gorgeous and flies helicopters. Oh, and she writes amazing love poetry that makes me all wet down here,” Al moved her hand lower between Isabel’s legs.

“Umm, she sounds like my kind of girl. Are you two exclusive or can I meet her too?” Isabel breathed in sharply as Al’s fingertip found a very sensitive spot.

“Nope, you can’t have her. She’s all mine.”

“Too bad. She sounds like a hottie.”

Al laughed softly. “All the girl’s, huh?”

Al watched as Isabel broke into a smile. “Well, I should clarify: All the girls I wanted in English Composition class!”

“I would’ve swooned for you that’s for sure.”

They stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment that Al finally ended with a kiss. Isabel gripped Al’s hair her need growing stronger as she deepened the kiss. When Al was able to break the kiss, she moved to Isabel’s throat kissing and nibbling the tender spot at her collarbone. Moving lower she spent several minutes on each of Isabel’s nipples until a strong hand tangled in her hair again and pushed her lower.

“You drive me crazy,” Isabel’s voice was impatient.

Al grinned as she settled between her legs. “_Where are you?”_ she read the words again. “_I’m right here_ is the wrong answer isn’t it?” Al looked up at Isabel from an intimate and unique position.

“Yes,” Isabel relaxed her grip and touched Al’s cheek tenderly. “For all of them it was. For you right now, it’s a right as it can be.”

Al smiled as she brushed the soft hair with her hand and lowered her head.


	2. Along the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If your poem about the wall is a metaphor for life, this house is a metaphor for death.”

Al stopped and stared off into the distance. “I swear this old stone wall goes on forever.”

The morning sun slanted through the trees to their right casting long dark shadows that mixed with the deep green of the underbrush. Moss grew on some of the rocks in the dimmer places the sun didn’t reach. Here and there mushrooms sprouted along the narrow path they followed. There was not a breath of wind.

Somewhere, way above them, a bird trilled disjointed notes high and flute like.

“Hermit Thrush.”

When Al turned around Isabel had dropped the large duffel bag she was carrying and had her face turned up to the sun. “It’s beautiful isn’t it, Al?” Isabel found a smooth rock in the wall and hoisted herself into a sitting position.

Al took a few steps back toward her and looked up. Wherever the bird was she couldn’t see it. The melancholy song sounded again and Al watched Isabel close her eyes in contentment.

“At least it’s not trying to eat us,” Al said under her breath.

“I didn’t get out much, alright?”

When Al was close enough, Isabel squeezed her between her knees laughing as Al made a half-hearted attempt to squirm away.

“Oh, that’s it,” Al said as Isabel caught her collar and pulled her forward.

“Yeah? Is your mind between your legs again?”

Al didn’t answer right away she was looking beyond Isabel’s shoulder to the other side of the wall.

“Not that,” Al tickled Isabel’s ribs, “though I’m always thinking about getting between your legs. That!” Al pulled herself up on the wall beside Isabel and jumped down on the other side.

When Isabel turned and looked, she spotted olive green canvas between a jumble of rocks on the other side. Al began to toss the rocks covering the second duffel aside one at a time. They had found the first of Anne’s cached gear not far from the clearing where the helicopters had landed. This second one had taken longer.

“Stupid wall looks the same on either side,” Al was mumbling as she pulled the rocks off the big duffel bag. “Good thing you stopped to listen to that bird or we never would’ve found it.”

“Serendipity,” Isabel crossed her ankles and rested her elbows on her knees as she watched Al work.

“Another poem?” Al dodged a large, round stone that came loose from the top of the wall and tumbled toward her.

“I’m composing as we speak,” Isabel had turned her face to the sun again her mind clearly somewhere else.

“Just leave out the part where I get squashed flat by a rock, OK?”

Isabel didn’t respond so Al continued clearing rocks. Finally, she had it fully exposed and was in the process of heaving the bag up onto the wall when Isabel spoke.

“The wall is a metaphor for life.”

“That it goes on forever?” Al started to pull herself up onto the wall beside the other woman. “That’s deep.”

“And for some of us it’s unfortunately true.”

Al heard the snapping of bushes behind her and a moment later the growls. Isabel had stood up and was reaching for her rifle.

“Not that. Too much noise,” Al grabbed a palm sized rock and, with a long stride forward, threw it at the walker. “Strike!” she yelled.

The walker was knocked back but kept coming now with a dangling half jaw.

"I got this,” Al chose another rock. Her second throw hit the walker in the middle of the chest doing little to slow it down.

“Time to change pitchers,” Isabel pointed at a smooth, round rock next to Al’s foot. “Toss me that one.”

Isabel’s arm swung forward in a hard, sidearm throw. There was harsh crack when the rock hit the walker in the forehead and it collapsed backward.

“Yer out!”

Isabel just grinned and sat back down on the wall. Al pulled herself up beside her and they sat shoulder to shoulder facing opposite ways.

“They wouldn’t let me pitch,” Isabel said softly.

“Were they stupid?”

Isabel laughed and leaned into Al nuzzling her neck. “No, it wasn’t really their fault. By the time I got up the courage to play on the boy’s team – the only team in our small town – I was too old. That was the rule,” Isabel shrugged. “I could play on the team; I just couldn’t pitch.”

“Their loss,” Al leaned into Isabel’s shoulder. After a moment she spoke again. “I should’ve brought my camera.”

“What’s your name? Where are you from? What’ve you…”

“’How did you get here?’ I’m going to change it up.” Al held her smile when Isabel frowned at her.

“You know it’s too dangerous for me to go on camera…”

“No cameras here. Just talk,” Al turned toward Isabel expectantly.

Isabel stared off into the trees her eyes shifting as she blinked. Finally, she began to speak.

“My name is Isabel, one L, one E. Isabel Elizabeth Martin Murray.” Taking Al’s hand where it rested on her knee, Isabel laced their fingers together. “I’m from a small town in south western Indiana and how I got here?” she sighed. “I dunno how I got here. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“Hyphenated?” When Isabel looked confused, Al added, “Your last name. It’s hyphenated?”

“Oh, you mean the Martin?” When Al nodded, she continued. “Not hyphenated though it was my mother’s last name.” Isabel looked off into the still woods. “They wanted a boy to carry on their names. History was important to them. Both of the families went way back to the old settlers and farming days. But they didn’t have a boy they had me. My mother was forty-two when she had me and my father was fifty-six.”

“You grew up on a farm?” Al’s voice was gentle.

“No, they sold the farm when they thought they weren’t going to have children. I grew up in a small-town general store,” Isabel smiled broadly. “I still remember the way the old wood floor would creak in that one place right beside the counter where the jelly bean jar was.”

“Got caught, did you?” Al squeezed the hand she was holding.

“Almost every time,” Isabel sighed as her mind trolled through the memories. “There was a big cooler in the back. Soda pop cost a quarter if you drank it there and left the bottle. I wrote my first poem about that store and that cooler.” When Al opened her mouth to ask, Isabel cut her off. “Don’t ask. I don’t remember how it went just that it was titled Bottle Caps and was about all the different choices I had when I opened the cooler and looked at the colourful bottle caps.”

“Sounds like a metaphor for life. All those choices.”

“Al!” Isabel grinned at her lover. “You’re catching on to this poetry thing.”

“Not so hard,” Al mumbled.

They were both quiet for a time. Above them the thrush resumed her song.

“How did a small-town poet and baseball pitcher become a pilot?”

“My dad flew jets for the Air Force in Vietnam.” Isabel gazed up at the blue sky visible through the upper canopy of the trees. “He wanted his son to go to the academy; do what he didn’t do.” Letting go of Al’s hand, Isabel swiped at her eyes. “He never knew I got accepted. He died the summer I played baseball when I was sixteen. Massive heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Al took Isabel’s hand again, held it between both of her own.

“Me too,” Isabel blinked away tears. “I graduated sixth in my class from the Air Force Academy,” Isabel’s voice grew stronger. “I flew fixed wing, jets, helicopters. If it could go up, I could pilot it. I was trying to get into NASA when the outbreak happened.”

“And CRM? How did that happen?”

Isabel looked at Al no longer teary or melancholy. Al was reminded of serious Isabel when she said things like _‘we are a force that aren’t living for ourselves or for now.’_

“There was a list,” Isabel looked away, her face hard like it had been when they first met. “I didn’t know I was on it. I didn’t have a choice. When things got really bad and CRM was invoked, I got new orders.”

Isabel uncrossed her legs and stretched them out and over the edge of the wall. Al waited.

“We were a multibranch force at first and everything was upfront and clear: our mission was to protect the scientists and buy them time while they worked on a cure. It wasn’t easy. The bases kept getting overrun. Either by refugees or when there was an internal outbreak. One of the last times we moved – the subgroup I was assigned to – we went underground except for the actual aircraft unit. That’s when things started to get murky and weird.”

“Weird how?” Al tried to keep her voice soft and her question gentle though her heart was beating faster.

“That’s when the others started to appear.”

“Others?”

The woods around them had grown still, the birds silent. Al began to feel a chill even though the sun was warming the day all around them.

“Others like Anne,” Isabel looked away, wouldn’t meet Al’s eyes. “And more scientists. Sketchy scientists. The kind that made you wonder if they checked their morals at the door to the lab.”

Isabel released Al’s hand and pulled her knees up to chest protectively. Again, Al waited.

“Anne wasn’t wrong when she called it ‘indoctrination’. Brainwashing would work too. I’m not surprised they did it, you know,” Isabel looked at Al her eyes clearly pained. “Things were fragmenting, people were leaving. Everyone was losing contact with their families on the outside. They started these programs; told us how important we were and that what we were doing was vital to human kind. They admitted the past was gone and we only had the future. It was up to us to build the future. We just had to follow orders. Keep marching forward, following along,” Isabel raised her arm and pointed away along the wall as it disappeared into the deeper darkness of the woods. “Like we were walking along this wall, not knowing where we were going and not asking. Just being led along.”

Al felt a cold hand wrap around her heart.

“So, I went along, did what they asked. Followed orders and tried not to think about it too much. If they could find a cure, that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?”

“Did you know they were responsible for the outbreak in the first place?”

“No. Once the others arrived and things began to change, the rumours started.” Isabel picked up a fallen leaf and began to shred it. “I tried not to listen. By then the world was a mess and no one wanted to die like that. Protocol and orders kept everything, and me along with it, together. Do you know what I mean?” Isabel looked at Al almost pleadingly.

“Yes,” Al’s voice was barely there so she nodded and a part of her hoped Isabel would stop and they could go back to their conversation when it was about the past, the sad, but normal past.

“The last base I was on we didn’t have to hide everything underground anymore since there were so few of the living around to bother us. The scientists had their own secure and segregated facility in buildings down the hill from our base. There were rumours. Rumours about what went on down over the hill.”

Al had opened her mouth to speak. She didn’t know if she was going to say ‘please continue’ or ‘please stop’ because she never got the chance.

There was a crashing of branches in the brush to their left and a moment later to their right. Al was on her feet immediately. “Shit!” Al looked left and right. The dead were pouring out of the woods. “It’s a herd!”

Isabel had put her arms through the straps of the first duffel so she could carry it like a backpack. Shouldering her rifle, she began to take shots at the dead who were quickly surrounding them.

“Al! There should be a pistol in that bag!”

Kicking away a walker that had gotten too close for Isabel to shoot, Al dropped to one knee and began pawing through the bag. There was nothing that when her hand touched it screamed _gun,_ but there was a flat case at the bottom. When Al pulled it out, she was never so happy to see the word _Glock_.

Snapping the box open she grabbed the pistol noting there was already a magazine loaded. A quick press check showed a round in the chamber. “Ready to rock and roll!” Al grabbed the other three loaded magazines and stuffed them in one of the pouches of her webbing. She was slinging the duffel over her shoulder when Isabel grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go.”

Al didn’t have time to comment or even sigh as they headed along the top of the wall deeper into the forest.

The footing was tricky and Al slipped several times before they finally seemed to pull ahead of the dead. Isabel stopped and dropped her duffle. Al moved to do the same.

“We should ditch the bags.”

“No, Al,” Isabel rummaged through her duffel and came up with two generic rifle magazines. She dropped her empty one into the bag and reloaded. The spare she slipped into a side pocket of her cargo pants. “We need this gear. We’d be dead without it.”

Al fired back along the wall taking out two walkers. “Typical army, can’t do anything without guns.”

“Air Force, Al. I’m Air Force,” Isabel slung the duffel again and smiled at Al. “Army sucks.”

They started off again still on the top of the wall. Ahead, Al could see it was getting narrow. Too narrow to walk on. Just as she was about to say something, Isabel jumped down. “This way, there’s a path.”

The path was nearly overgrown and branches slapped at them as they made their way along at a slow trot. Al reached out and caught a handful of the duffel on Isabel’s back. Her other hand with the pistol she held up in front of her face.

Al didn’t see the house until they were nearly on top of it. Her hand still holding onto Isabel brought the other woman up short. They both stared through the brush and vines that seemed to enclose the house.

“If your poem about the wall is a metaphor for life, this house is a metaphor for death.”

Isabel didn’t have time to answer as the dead were right behind them again. She started toward the steps to the house, caught her foot on something in the thick grass, and fell hard onto the wooden steps. Her arm was briefly caught in the rotten wood but she was able to pull it free. Lunging across the porch, Isabel kicked hard at the door. It moved only slightly. Behind her at the bottom of the steps, Al was taking slow careful shots. Isabel kicked at the door again. Again, it refused to yield.

Al had backed up and was standing next to the thing Isabel had tripped over. Isabel squinted at the stone carving.

“Al! Toss me that eagle by your foot.”

Al looked down. A serene face gazed up at her. “You mean this Buddha?”

“Whatever. I can’t get the door open!”

Al jammed the Glock into her webbing and reached down for the carved Buddha head. It took two hands and a lot of effort to lift the thing. It was the size of a big bowling ball and much heavier. When Al hefted Buddha from her waist up to her chest under her chin and began to lurch awkwardly up the steps, Isabel wisely moved aside.

She didn’t so much as gain momentum as she reached the porch as she fell forward the Buddha out in front of her. With a bang and an emphatic “ooff” Al and the heavy stone hit the door. The Buddha head slammed into the door handle and the door flew inward.

Al hit the dusty floor on her belly and Buddha rolled ahead of her into the darkness of the hall. There were a series of thumps, then a crack of wood, then finally a splash. Al was trying to make sense of what she had heard when Isabel pulled her to her feet and moved past her.

Instantly it came to Al and she understood what she had heard.

“Isabel! STOP! Don’t move!”

“What? Al? I closed the door but it won’t hold. It’s broken.”

Al let out a breath when she realized Isabel had stopped somewhere just ahead. Taking the little penlight that hung around her neck, Al crept forward panning the light as she went. She was a few feet behind Isabel when the light revealed a dark spot on the floor in front of Isabel. Aiming the light down to Isabel’s boot revealed a large, deep hole in the floor. And Isabel had stopped mere inches from it. When Al panned the light up to her face, Isabel wore a goofy grin. “If I didn’t trust you...” she stared to say.

There was a loud crack and Isabel and the floor she was standing on shifted downward several inches. Al reached out toward her but her arm was intercepted by a walker she hadn’t seen coming. Pulling back, off balance with the large duffel on her back, Al kicked out at the knee of the walker. There was crunch of shattered brittle bone and the walker fell away from her and into the hole brushing past Isabel as it went.

Al shone her penlight into the hole and she and Isabel watched as the walker bobbed to the surface and began snapping and snarling up at them. They barely had time to take in the worsening of their predicament when behind them another of the dead began to squeeze through the gap in the broken door.

“Al! I’m going to jump!” As Isabel said this the floor shifted again.

“You can’t! It’s too far!” Al flashed the light back and forth between where Isabel stood and the floor beyond.

“I’m on a beam and it looks solid over there,” Isabel said reasonably. “Just hold your light over there.”

Before Al could agree or disagree, Isabel bent her knees and sprang forward her rifle with the trident spikes held out ahead of her. After a second of free fall, the spikes slammed into the floor on the other side. Isabel hung on to the rifle her body half in half out of the hole. As she began to pull herself up Al could hear a slapping sound as the walker in the water below Isabel grabbed at her boots.

Al held her breath as Isabel pulled herself up and rolled away from the hole the duffel bag still on her back. When she gained her feet, she shouted back at Al. “I’ll find something to bridge the gap.”

“No time!” Al pulled the duffel bag off her back and threw it at Isabel.

“Can you get up the stairs?”

Al hadn’t realized she was standing next to the staircase. Shining her penlight up and over the riser next to her revealed an empty space where the rest of the steps had been. If there was a way up, she couldn’t see it.

“No good, steps are gone.”

But the baluster posts weren’t.

“I’ve got an idea,” Al tossed the little flashlight over to Isabel. “Shine it up here. I’m going to climb across.”

“You can’t it’s too far!”

“Where’ve I heard that before!” Al tightened the waist belt of her webbing and put one of her trench knives between her teeth. Grasping the first baluster she shuffled forward along the few inches of floor between the wall and the hole. Luckily the wooden post held and so did the second. By the time she grabbed the third, there was no floor beneath her. There was also nothing else to grab on to.

“The door,” Isabel pointed with the light. “Get your hands on the edge of the door and I’ll grab you.”

Al let go of the baluster with one hand and pushed her fingers through the gap above the door that led to the space under the stairs. When the door didn’t give way, she moved her other hand.

“Good, now…” Isabel didn’t have time to finish when the front door gave way and the dead crashed into the hall in a heap. Some fell forward into the hole in the floor and others fell against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

The staircase shuddered and the door Al was hanging on began to move. With an eerie creaking the door swung slowly open moving Al out away from the wall and out over the hole in the floor.

“Shit,” Al sputtered around the knife in her mouth.

“Farther,” Isabel yelled behind her. “Swing farther! I’ll catch you.”

Al kicked her feet at nothing. There was no way for her to make the door move. As the door began to swing back toward the wall, the hinges creaked ominously. Al was getting ready for the inevitable drop into the water and thinking how as she dropped, she could get the knife into her hand when something hard hit the other side of the door and she was pushed backward again out over the hole and farther this time.

Feeling strong hands grab at her waist, Al let go. She fell backward onto Isabel and together they watched as the door, and the walker who had grabbed at it, fell into the hole. Slowly, one by one, the six or so walkers who had crashed through the door followed the others down through the hole in the floor.

Al let her head flop back against Isabel’s shoulder.

“Hey pirate,” Isabel took the knife from Al’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any rum, do ya? I sure could use a drink!

**A few minutes later**

The door at the end of the hall was solid and, once they had jiggered the lock open and passed through, they locked it securely behind them.

Al was bent over, hands on her knees wanting to breathe deeply but resisting due to the dust and dead, musty smell to the air. Though, it was nearly pitch dark, Al could tell they were in a large open room. The silence was almost as heavy as the dead smell of the air. Behind them in the hall and the flooded cellar, the dead could hardly be heard.

Isabel was digging in one of the duffel bags and after a moment a more powerful light beam replaced Al’s nearly dead penlight. Al wasn’t paying attention; she was coughing. And…

“Al! Your wheezing!” Isabel voice was concerned. “Do you have asthma?”

Al dropped to one knee one hand on her chest. “Dunno… maybe…probably. Dust, dust bothers me.”

“Do you carry a rescue… never mind.” Isabel went back to rummaging in the duffel bag. When she found what she was looking for, Al was struggling to breathe. Her chest felt like a tightening vice and everything was becoming blurry.

“Got it!”

With one hand Isabel grabbed the back of Al’s neck pulling her head up. Her other hand put an inhaler in Al’s mouth. “Breath in… now!” Al drew in a medicated breath when Isabel triggered the inhaler. After a second puff, her chest began to feel looser. She let her body fall forward her head in Isabel’s lap. “Take this,” Isabel pressed a cloth into Al’s hand and moved her hand to her face. “Breathe through that. I have to make sure it’s safe.”

Isabel’s thigh was replaced with a corner of one of the duffels and Al was content to breathe slowly through the clean smelling bandana.

Isabel had moved off to the left. Ahead of Al to the right the room was ominously dark. Al could see her penlight was next to another flashlight so she reached out and clicked it on. What the stronger light revealed made no sense. Table legs, chair legs, human legs.

There was a rustle and a narrow beam of sunlight flooded the room as Isabel pulled heavy paper away from a high window.

Al closed her eyes and kept them shut for a long moment. When she opened them again, she wished she hadn’t.

Dust floated heavy in the air illuminated by the beam of sunlight and swirled when Isabel passed through it. Though the light was behind Al and not in front of her, it was enough to wash the room in a spectral grey that, as Al watched, revealed the scene in front of her.

It was a table, a large table, and around it she could make out six or more chairs. And the chairs she could see were occupied.

Isabel’s light swept over the table, moved left, and settled on a door. When Isabel crouched and put a hand on her Al’s hip, Al’s body jerked.

“They’re dead, Al,” Isabel’s flashlight settled on the table and its occupants again. “Really dead.” Al barely felt Isabel tie the bandana around her head. She was pushing herself up and pointing her own light ahead.

There were six chairs around the big table, five of them occupied. In the spot nearest them at the head of the table the body was slumped forward head on its place setting. All the others were upright, heads turned and facing Al and Isabel. It was ghoulish, grisly and Al felt a moment of near panic.

Isabel must have noticed because she pressed the inhaler into Al’s free hand. Stepping past Al, she approached the table. The center of the table was covered with what must have been a grand feast but it was now gone to decay. Isabel played her light over what could have been a turkey, though the carcass was just bones and flaps of desiccated skin. Other dishes crowded the space around the place settings their contents black and unknowable.

“Miss. Havisham’s wedding feast,” Isabel said. “Great Expectations.”

“Yeah, I read it. Well, the Coles Notes.”

Controlling her fear, Al moved forward stopping at the empty place to the left of the large body at the head of the table.

“He was last,” Isabel said reaching out to take a small revolver from the table where it had rested next to the body’s right hand. As Al watched she panned her light from each of the other four occupants finally stopping at the head of the table again. “They shot themselves one by one,” as Isabel said this Al could see the neat holes in each skull at the temples. “Or he did it. Either way, he was last.”

Al held the bandana tight to her mouth and nose when Isabel blew the dust off the gun. She popped open the cylinder. “One left,” Isabel smiled at Al.

Al looked from Isabel to the empty place at the table. A chill moved through her causing her to shiver. When Isabel turned away, Al shone her flashlight down at the table. The plate in front of the vacant chair was empty except for a layer of dust. And something else. Al waved a hand over it stirring the dust. Leaning closer she squinted at the words she could see printed there. The first three were neat and had probably been drawn with a heavy marker. The last three looked like they had been finger-painted.

_Where are you? You are lost to us_

Al jerked backward. She snapped her light up to Isabel where she was standing next to a painting on the far wall. Isabel was blowing dust from the picture revealing a child – a girl in a white dress – walking beside a weathered stone wall in a faded but still green forest. The child’s hand was tracing the stones as she walked away her back to the viewer…

“Along the wall,” Isabel read from the plate at the bottom of the frame. She turned to Al surprise and something else, shock maybe on her face.

“Give me the gun!”

“What? Al?”

“Give it to me,” Al’s voice was low and deadly serious.

Isabel handed over the revolver. Al turned the cylinder one click at a time until the live round was lined up with the barrel. The hammer felt stiff when she cocked the gun. She placed it on the empty plate muzzle facing the center of the table.

“In case she comes back.”

“Who?” Isabel stood beside Al, shone her light at the words on the plate.

Al flicked her light at the far wall and the painting there.

“Her.”

For just a moment Isabel looked confused as her eyes moved between the painting and the plate. Al watched her expression change, watched her gulp.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Al never looked back. Not once. Outside the back of the house was a large pond, a small dock, and an old row boat. By rowing across the pond and entering the woods along the far side of the stream that filled it, they were able to separate themselves from the last of the herd. Al had sat in the back of the rowboat the skin on the back of her neck prickling as she had the distinct feeling of being watched.

Isabel found a detailed terrain map in one of the duffels and, with her compass, plotted a route back to the barn and the MRAP.

**Several hours later**

“I’ll have the chicken korma if you don’t want it,” Isabel gestured at the dehydrated meals Al was holding. Al dropped one pouch to the side and began to dig through the others. “She’s not franks and beans kinda girl if that’s what you’re looking for, Al.”

Digging to the bottom of the duffel Al found a pouch of Mexican rice and beans. She put a pot of water on the Primus stove to boil and sat back watching Isabel remove items from the other bag. When she tossed aside a black T-shirt, Al picked it up. It was new, long sleeved, and still smelled clean. Over the left breast was a stylized skull and the words _We are everywhere and nowhere._

“Can I keep this?” Al held up the shirt.

Isabel pulled a black motorcycle jacket, and a long narrow case from the bottom of the bag followed lastly by a plaid shirt. “How about this?” Isabel tossed Al the second shirt.

Al held out the shirt and smiled. “Alicia will like this.”

Isabel stood up and pushed her arms into the jacket. It wasn’t made of leather but a sturdy mesh material and had Kevlar at the elbows and down the back. It was belted at the waist and collarless. Zipping it up, Isabel looked at Al. “Not bite proof but hopefully close enough.”

Al swallowed hard. “It’s you. Wanna eat supper later?”

Isabel spared Al an indulgent look and sat down again. She had mostly assembled a long-barrelled sniper rifle when she paused and looked seriously at Al. “Will you answer me something?”

“I was told I had mild asthma. Dust sets it off.”

Isabel looked confused for a moment then shook her head. “Not that.” There was a long pause, long enough that Al took the time to pour boiling water into each of the meal pouches.

“Back there at the house… the way you seemed to know…”

The walkie talkie attached to a belt draped over the passenger seat of the MRAP spurted to life with a female voice.

“Al? Are you there?”

Al snatched up the walkie, keyed the transmit button. “Yeah, June, I’m here. Is Alicia alright?”

“She’s fine, Al. She’s going to be alright.”

Isabel was watching Al closely. The butt stock of the rifle rested on her hip.

“That’s good. I’m relieved.” She had almost said ‘we are relieved’ but Isabel had told her to keep her name and even the fact that she existed off the air.

“Al, can you come back? We need you back here.” June’s voice was tight and Al suspected she was holding something back.

“Yeah, in the morning, I guess,” Al was watching Isabel. What they would do beyond one day to the next was something they hadn’t talked about. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. Morgan came back with a new person. He doesn’t know her…” June’s voice trailed off. “He just met her on the road north of here.”

Al got the undercurrent to June’s words as she met Isabel’s eyes. Keeping her voice light Al pressed transmit. “OK, sure. See you tomorrow.”

Isabel pushed the bolt into the rifle and slammed it hard forward with the heel of her hand. “That bitch!”

“I don’t need to be psychic to know what that’s all about.”

The name was left unsaid between them.

_Anne._


	3. Your Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please point that somewhere else or you and I will both be surprised when it goes off.”

Alicia was pretending to be asleep.

In the doorway to the factory’s first aid clinic, now the group’s improvised hospital, June and Strand were having a conversation.

“…will be back today.” June said.

“Both of them?” Strand asked.

“Well, I don’t suppose she’s going to stash her somewhere, do you?”

Alicia heard a soft sound that could have been Strand chuckling. “She finds the love of her life and puts her on ice? No, I don’t think so.”

There was a moment of silence then Strand spoke again. “You knew about this?”

“I suspected something was going on with her and that it was about someone.” June’s voice had gotten a little louder.

“Shhhhh,” Strand admonished.

“When we were collecting the fuel. I think she found something. I don’t know what.”

“Who are these people? They have…”

Alicia missed the rest when a truck engine started up outside. When the truck had driven off, June was speaking.

“…and now she’s here. I don’t think Al’s going to be very happy to see her.”

Alicia’s eyes popped open and she had to will herself to be still.

“Alicia either.”

There was silence again until Alicia heard footsteps approach her bed. When June touched her forehead, she opened her eyes slowly and feigned yawning.

“How are you feeling today? Pain better?”

Alicia sat up, rubbed the crook of her elbow where the IV had recently been removed. “Yeah, a lot better,” Alicia faked a smile at June. She was feeling better just not as much as she was leading June to believe. If _that woman_ had somehow ended up here, Alicia was going to get answers. “I’d like to get up. Walk around a bit.”

“OK. If you get tired, I want you back in bed.”

“No prob,” Alicia smiled at June. The smile was gone as soon as June turned away.

The next few minutes were taken up with getting Alicia dressed, her bandages checked and her arm in a sling. When Alicia started to walk away on her own, June insisted on going with her.

Finding _that woman,_ as Alicia was beginning to think of her, was easier than she thought. All she had to do was go wherever June didn’t want her too. At the door to the big room they used as a dining area and communal room, June took a firm grip on Alicia’s other arm.

“Maybe you shouldn’t jump right in with, you know, talking and being normal just yet.”

When June tried to turn her away from the room, Alicia sighed. “I am a bit tired.” Leaning against the doorframe Alicia took a few deep breaths and scanned the room.

Just as Alicia saw a vaguely familiar woman sitting back to her at a table with a handful of children, June moved to block her view.

“We should probably head back so you can rest.”

Alicia nodded to June. There was no way she could confront _that woman_ in her weakened state. She would have to bide her time. Besides, it didn’t look like either of them would be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Oh, hey, Alicia!” Morgan was approaching from across the room. When he passed _that woman_, he smiled at her broadly.

Alicia took a few steps back from the doorway with June’s eager help.

“It’s nice to see you up and around,” Morgan put a hand on Alicia’s shoulder. “You’re feeling better?” The slight squint to his eyes and the look he gave June made Alicia wonder what he had been told about her wound. “You should meet Jadis.”

“Not now, Morgan.” June’s voice was firm as she turned Alicia away from the common room.

“Someone new?” Alicia asked keeping her voice light as they began to walk away.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Morgan couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice. “She’s amazing with the kids,” Morgan kept talking as he followed along behind Alicia and June. “She’s an art teacher and yoga instructor.”

Alicia could feel June’s tension and ignored it. “How did you find her?” After she said it, Alicia cringed inwardly. ‘Find’ and ‘how’ seemed like the wrong words to use even though what she had really wanted to say was _‘how did she find you?’_

Morgan seemed not to notice. “She was just walking along the road north and east of here.”

“Yeah?”

“OK, Morgan. I’ve got it from here,” June said as they reached the door to the clinic.

Morgan smiled. “Good to see you’re OK.”

“Thanks, you too. Or, ummm… I really am tired.” Alicia gave Morgan the broadest smile she could manage.

June guided Alicia into the room and helped her up on to the bed. Alicia didn’t have to fake being tired. She really was. June refastened her bandages where they had come slightly loose and Alicia lay back in the bed letting her eyelids droop.

June lingered and Alicia wondered if she was going to say something.

“Maybe when I wake up, I can get something to eat,” Alicia said around a yawn.

“OK, sounds good.” June nodded and left the room closing the door behind her.

Once she was sure June wasn’t returning, Alicia got out of bed and went to the locker on the opposite wall. The clothes she had been wearing were there and so was her knife. She slipped the blade from its scabbard and took it with her back to bed.

It took a while before sleep finally came.

**Around the same time**

Al was driving.

The road through the woods was narrow and branches slapped at the sides of the big van. Al was enjoying splashing through the puddles left from the recent rain.

Isabel sat on the passenger side one foot up on the seat and her elbow braced on her knee as she nibbled on her fingernails.

“We have to work on your backstory,” Al said as they bumped down into a particularly deep rut. “You don’t have to worry, though. No one is going to interrogate you.”

“It’s not that,” Isabel sighed as she glanced at Al. “It’s just…”

“Whatever it is, I won’t mind, OK? We don’t have to keep things from each other.”

“I know.” Isabel stared out the window working at the edges of her thumbnail. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“What? The dead popping up from nowhere when you least expect it?” Al answered keeping her tone easy.

“Not that. That happened to us – to Beckett and I -- a few times,” she paused and Al waited for her to go on. “I mean the people. The people like in that house that killed themselves before they could…” Isabel didn’t finish.

“Yes, I’ve seen that a few times,” Al hesitated. “I was going to tell you that yeah, I got used to it, but that’s not true.” Al cranked the wheel left then right avoiding rocks in the road. Isabel was watching her. “You know what’s funny about that? It always seemed to be the religious people who went in for suicide.”

When Isabel didn’t say anything, Al continued. “I met this guy, way back, not long after this all started. He was standing on the steps of a church. When I got closer, I could hear noises at the closed door. He told me they had all gathered inside and decided to kill themselves with poison like their own little Jonestown. He was the only one who didn’t go through with it. So, there he was, outside, having an existential crisis ‘cause the dead had risen and he didn’t know what to do. I told him to open the door and let them out. He looked at me like I was crazy. Eventually he did what I asked and I took them out one at a time with a fire axe. Some people just can’t cope, Isabel. That’s all it is.”

“Did you record his story? On camera?”

Al looked pained and, for a long minute, Isabel thought she might not answer.

“I did. Then I erased it.”

The _why?_ floated unsaid between them.

“There was no way he was going to make it. No way. He had a gun, a little compact nine mil. It was empty. I gave him one round; loaded it for him. Walked away.”

“Survival of the fittest,” Isabel said softly. “That’s what the anthropologists and sociologists liked to say. They got to study a real-life dystopia! Great fun for them. We took some of them out into the field to do on the ground studies. Some of them came back; some didn’t. Survival of the fittest isn’t much fun when you’re one of the ones trying to survive.”

“I can understand that,” Al shot a look at her companion. “I can also understand if someone wants out.”

“I know,” Isabel said. After a moment she continued. “There was a directive. Each of us was interviewed and had to sign it. You know what it said?”

Al shook her head, eyes on the road.

“It said, ‘If you’re going to kill yourself, though we would prefer that you not, please use a bullet to the head and leave yourself where you can be easily found.’”

“That’s cold.”

Isabel smiled slightly. “Some people laughed at it. Not the ones who had encountered the dead and risen, though.” She paused, rapped her knuckles on the heavy glass of the window. “All of this I can pretty well deal with. What bothers me is feeling like I’m living in some real-life Halloween decorated house. It’s not real, yet it’s real.”

“That house really creeped you out. Didn’t it?” Al felt a slight chill thinking about it.

“Yeah, it did. All that natural beauty around it, then inside horror. It bothered me; I just didn’t let on. I’ve gotten good at hiding my emotions.”

“You don’t have to do that around me.”

Isabel matched Al’s smile. “I know, thanks.”

They were silent for a time; Al driving and Isabel watching the scenery go by. Al was about to bring up her plan for Isabel’s fabricated history again, when the other woman spoke.

“Last year they decided to have a Halloween party, the covert operators. They invited everyone else on the base, but as far as I know, no one went. Beckett wanted to go. He was mad, wanted a fight. The rest of us just found it ghoulish. Thinking about it now, I think it was maybe a way of coping with the insanity.”

“Coping with insane times by slightly insane people.” Al said. “Nope, doesn’t work for me.”

“Looking back, I feel like I should’ve seen it coming. His breakdown.” Isabel looked out the window again. “I don’t think he ever really got over thinking of them as real people. Or at least that they had been real people once. Maybe he was too much of a realist or just too soft. I just wish he hadn’t ended up like one of them.”

“It wasn’t your fault…” Al wasn’t sure she believed herself when she said it.

Isabel shot her a baleful look.

“You have to let it go, Isabel. Guilt will eat you alive.”

When Al looked at Isabel, she could see the other woman was holding something. Something small with Al’s own handwriting on it.

“I should give you this back,” Isabel held out the Bog #7 tape.

Al made no move to take it. “Hold on to it for me for now, OK? I’ll put it back with the others where it belongs eventually. It’s just a story. They’re all just stories. And that story I need to let go.”

The set of Al’s jaw kept Isabel from saying anything else for a time. She turned the tape several times in her hand before putting it back in her pants pocket.

They had come out of the woods and onto the main road a while ago, so Al brought it up again. “I’m going to say I met you while I was missing. Strand and June and Alicia will know there’s more to the story, but that’s all the others need to know.”

“Missing?”

“You know, tasered, dragged through the mud, tied up a couple times.” Al grinned at Isabel and saw her face redden. “It’s OK, you know. You were doing what you thought was right and so was I. You didn’t know me, I didn’t know you, and when you did know me, and I knew you… Well, here we are.”

“We almost weren’t,” Isabel was shaking her head not meeting Al’s eyes.

“Isabel! We _almost weren’t_ a few times yesterday. That’s how it goes out here. You just deal with it.”

“It’s all so fucked up. Makes my head spin.”

“Well, stop spinning there, Linda Blair. We’re here.”

**Later**

Alicia was sitting up sipping soup when Al and Isabel entered her room. Al moved to hug her, hesitated and ended up holding her hand. “I’ll give you a proper hug when you’re better.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Alicia smiled looking past Al to Isabel.

“Thank you for what you did for me.” Isabel stood awkwardly at the door unable to come closer.

“No problem,” Alicia gave a little shrug and went back to her soup. “She’s here, you know,” Alicia couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“We know.” Isabel came in the room, found a chair and turned it around resting her elbows on the chair back as she sat.

“June radioed us,” Al elaborated.

“What happened? I don’t remember much after I was shot.” Alicia tried to keep her voice steady even as a part of her wanted to scream what Anne had said about her mother. That was a secret best kept for now.

“We had a plan,” Isabel started. “I guess she didn’t want to go through with it.”

“She was going to take the helicopter and go back. Tell them Isabel was dead,” Al stopped, shrugged. “Sounds pretty lame now.”

“And here she is,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

“Yes, here she is!” Strand said from the doorway. Moving into the room he grabbed Al in a crushing hug. “Glad to have you back, girl!” Releasing Al, he nodded at Isabel. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”

Isabel stood and extended her hand. “Ma…” Isabel almost said her rank. “Murray, Isabel Murray.”

Strand grinned when Isabel’s grip was as firm as his. “I’m dying to know how you two met.”

“Me too,” June came in the room and shut the door behind her.

“I tasered her, dragged her through the mud, knocked her out, tied her up a couple of times…” Isabel started. “Then I forced her to climb a mountain…”

“Then we shared a beer, talked a bit, and fell in love,” Al picked up the story keeping her voice as light as Isabel had.

There was silence in the room until Strand spoke.

“Ah, good times. Reminds me of my club days back in Los Angeles. I’m sure there’s more juicy details we all would enjoy,” Strand looked around the room. “Right now, though, we need to figure out what to do about that woman. Perhaps a little background is in order,” Strand said looking at Isabel.

“Yeah, what’s her story?” June borrowed Al’s introductory line. “Why is she here?”

Isabel looked at Al and when she nodded, Isabel started with a question. “Who does she say she is?”

“She told Morgan she’s an art teacher and yoga instructor and her name is Jadis,” Alicia supplied.

“And that she was with a group that was stable for a long time until it fell apart just recently.” June added. “I heard her talking to Morgan.”

“OK, so that’s the persona she’s decided to go with.” When everyone but Al looked at her oddly, Isabel continued. “She’s what we call a covert operator. She goes out in the field and gathers information on survivor groups without…” Isabel hesitated.

“Without telling anyone who she really is and why she’s really there,” Al finished.

Alicia looked incredulous. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

“Is that why she’s here?” June asked. “To gather information on us?”

“And who is she reporting back to?” Strand added.

Al and Isabel looked at each other. “My group…” Isabel started to say but Al cut her off.

“There’s a lot that we can’t tell you – that Isabel can’t tell you – because it’s too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous?” June was more dubious than Alicia. “What do you think this is we are living in? A Disney movie?”

“She was CIA, clandestine service,” Isabel said firmly. “Before all this. Before the end of everything. And she was damn good.” Al looked up surprised at the clear admiration in Isabel’s voice. “She’s not going to tell you anything she doesn’t want to tell you.”

“Then we make her,” Alicia tapped her spoon against her empty soup bowl. “Get me some pliers. I’ll pull her teeth out, or her toenails. Whatever it is they do in movies.”

“That won’t work,” Isabel was shaking her head.

“Then what will work?” Strand’s gaze was heavy on Isabel. “You know her well, I presume?”

“They were lovers.”

Everyone looked at Alicia again when she said this and Al realized with a start that Alicia had heard a lot in the field beside the helicopter and obviously remembered at least some of it.

“Yes,” Isabel said softly.

“So, what will work?” Strand repeated. “If she’s here there must be a reason. We need to know if that puts us in danger.”

“You can’t appeal to her humanity,” Isabel said staring at the floor. “She doesn’t really have any. What she does have is vanity. Even then, I don’t know…”

“You rejected her, didn’t you?” Al held Isabel’s gaze. “If she’s as vain as you say she is, that must’ve stung.”

Isabel crossed her arms over her chest the armored elbows of her jacket flexing. “Though, of course, in her mind, she dumped me.”

“But she knows the truth,” Al pressed. “I’ve met lots of people who make their own reality because it makes them feel good about themselves yet, they still know and understand the truth. They just don’t like it.”

“The question is, how are we going to break her out of the reality she’s created?” June said. “Why would she talk to any of us…”

“She wouldn’t,” Isabel said firmly. “If she wants to be Jadis to you, then that’s who she will be. Pliers or no pliers,” Isabel looked at Alicia when she said this.

“Ah, but we have a secret weapon,” Strand said grinning.

“Yes,” Isabel sighed. “I know all of her personas; all of her fractured personality pieces. She may put up a front to me, but there’s no point in her doing that. The problem is, we can’t count on her to actually tell us anything we want to know.”

“Meaning she will lie,” Alicia made it a statement not a question.

“Well, yes and no.” Isabel looked around the room her eyes coming to rest on Al. “Jadis will lie obviously since her very existence is a lie. Anne is something different; she doesn’t need to lie.”

“Anne is her real name,” Al added for June and Strand. “At least I think…” Al looked at Isabel.

“As far as I know that’s her real name. And I’ve never known Anne to lie. She will only tell you bits and pieces and maybe manipulate you into seeing things the way she wants you to see them. That’s what makes her so good at what she does. She will tell you next to nothing and you will walk away thinking you know the whole story.”

There was silence for a long time until with a heavy sigh, Isabel said the last thing they needed to know.

“And you can’t lie to her. I’ve never known anyone who can see through a person like she can. If there’s truth to be known, she will know it. If you have a secret, she will find it out. If you have a weak spot, she will find it and rip your guts out. That’s what she does.”

“Forget the pliers. Maybe there’s a chainsaw around somewhere,” Alicia just shrugged when the others looked at her.

Eventually they formed a plan. Executing it took longer than they thought.

**Two days later**

Anne was cagey and always hyper aware of her surroundings. When they couldn’t get her alone near the room they had picked out for the interrogation – or intervention as Strand liked to call it – they prepared several rooms.

Strand was standing next to the door of one such room pretending to look at some papers with June when Anne/Jadis came along the hallway. June kept her eyes on Strand trying to keep from giving their intentions away. Anne of course was wary though she disguised it well. When she was close enough, June squeezed Strand’s hand.

Strand backed up a step and Anne bumped into him. “Oh, so sorry,” Strand’s voice oozed charm. “I didn’t see you there.”

With a smile, Strand put one big arm around her and turned her toward June. Anne was drawing in a breath to protest when June pushed a taser into her ribs. Strand let go when the electricity shot into her body then caught her again when she went limp.

June opened the door and they took her inside.

When Anne came to, she was sitting on a chair in a dark room lit only by a flashlight taped to an old coatrack. As her eyes adjusted, she could also make out very weak sunlight struggling to pierce the grime on a small high window behind and to her left. The corners of the room ahead of her were in deep shadow. She was not bound to the chair so she started to stand.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” Isabel stepped from the shadows and into the circle of light.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” The voice was higher than Anne’s normal speaking voice and the little squeak she made when Isabel extended her arm and pushed her back in the chair with the tip of the taser in the middle of her chest was convincingly pathetic.

“You can drop it, Anne. Your acting is Oscar level as always, but we both know it won’t work on me.”

Anne said nothing for a long time just sat with her eyes wide staring from Isabel to her own hands held tight in her lap.

“Morgan said this was a safe place. That everyone was here to help.”

The pleading tone was getting on Isabel’s nerves. “He’s not here, Anne. Just me and you.”

Anne’s eyes flicked to the corner of the dark room beyond Isabel’s right shoulder and in an instant the fake persona dropped away.

Isabel backed up a step staying out of reach.

“I’m getting tired of that thing,” Anne was looking at the taser in Isabel’s hand. “It’s not like in training, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Isabel responded letting her hand drop to her thigh. The taser was inert now, its charge gone, but as long as Anne saw it as a threat, Isabel wouldn’t correct her. “So, what happened? Why are you here?” Isabel kept her tone reasonable.

“I crashed…” Anne started before correcting herself with a wry smile. “Someone sabotaged the helicopter and I had to crash land. Oh, wait! That someone was you, wasn’t it?” Anne grinned.

“Sorry about that. That wasn’t actually a part of the plan.”

“The plan where you get your girl and get away, or the plan where I crash and burn and you get your girl and get away?” Anne’s voice was condescending.

“Either or, doesn’t matter.” Isabel backed up another step and slipped the taser in the pocket of her jacket. Her right hand moved toward her back and the 9mm pistol in her waist band. “What matters is are they coming?” Isabel pulled the pistol and pointed it at Anne’s face. “Is a Reclamation Team coming? What did you tell them?”

“That won’t work on me and you know it. Why you would even try, I can’t guess. I could have that gun from your hand and turned on you faster than you could blink and you know that too.”

Anne’s tone was not just condescending. Now it was smug.

Isabel let her finger drop from the side of the pistol to the trigger guard and then very slowly to the trigger. Even more slowly she took up the slight slack in the trigger. Smith and Wesson M&P pistols, like a Glock, usually had no external safety. Both Anne and Isabel knew the pistol Isabel held was not equipped with the optional slide lock safety either. It would fire when the shooter had pulled all the way through the trigger. Taking up the slack on the trigger released the internal safety, fully cocking the pistol.

“Are they coming?!”

Anne was still for a moment before her bravado returned.

“Please point that somewhere else or you and I will both be surprised when it goes off.”

Isabel shifted her finger back to side of the pistol and pulled her arm back a few inches.

“That’s better,” Anne almost sneered. “No, they’re not coming. I radioed them before I put your faulty helicopter down that you were gone and likely dead and that you had killed the general. Just like we decided.”

Isabel waited and finally Anne finished.

“Then I told them I wasn’t done.”

Isabel hit the magazine release with her thumb and the empty magazine clattered to the floor. Stepping forward, she turned the pistol sideways as she locked back the slide giving Anne a view of the empty chamber.

“Nice trick,” Anne huffed. “Your grip is horrible, you know. You need to hold it higher…” Anne started to rise from the chair.

“What do you mean? You’re not done?” Al moved from the corner of the room and out into the light.

“Ah, there you are. Done lurking in the shadows, are you?” Anne cocked her head to the side. “And the two of you have been raiding my closet, I see.”

Al pushed the sleeves of the black T-shirt up her forearms. “Your closet? You mean the one with all the skeletons in it?”

Anne laughed. “I can see what you like about her, Isabel.” Anne wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, laughed again. “Not only is she hella cute, she’s got a wicked sense of humour.”

Al smoothed her hair back slowly, her fingers spread, looked at Isabel and gave a little shrug. Isabel couldn’t help smiling.

“Sweet,” Anne’s voice had lost its smugness. “You two really are good together. I hope you’ve been making some home movies. I would love to see those.”

“Sorry, some things are private.” Isabel didn’t sound sorry at all.

“You’re not done what?” Al asked again keeping her voice even like this was just a conversation about where to have lunch or what movie to see.

Anne looked from Al to Isabel then back to Al.

“Do you know she bites?” Anne flicked her eyes from Al to Isabel. “When she’s really aroused. But maybe you haven’t got her that…”

“You wanna see?” Al strode forward pulling her shirt loose from her pants.

Anne blinked taken off guard for only a second. When Anne reached toward Al, Isabel intercepted and swatted her hand away.

“Really, Isabel? You’re such a prude.” Anne stood slowly and faced Isabel their noses bare inches apart. “That’s why I dumped you. You’re just too conventional.” Anne drew out each syllable of the last word and grinned wickedly.

Isabel dropped the empty pistol between them and lunged.

Her left forearm underneath Anne’s chin and her right hand grabbing the front of her jeans at the waist, Isabel drove Anne stumbling back over the chair and up against the concrete wall. Breathing hard she stared into Anne’s eyes as her hand slipped lower and gripped Anne between her legs. Hard.

“My grip is just fine, I think,” Isabel hissed.

Anne wiggled slightly, gave up, smiled slowly.

“You do not lack for passion, though. That I will give you.” Anne’s voice was hoarse from the pressure on her throat.

Isabel eased her forearm from Anne’s throat and started to step back. That’s when Anne made her move.

It just wasn’t what anyone expected.

Seizing Isabel’s right wrist with one hand, Anne grabbed the back of Isabel’s head with her other, fingers tangled in her hair. And kissed her. Hard, and with a hunger that Al felt like a kick to the groin. When Isabel responded by pushing Anne back and deepening the kiss, Al snatched the pistol from the floor, took a loaded mag from her pocket, and slammed it home.

Anne had her hand inside Isabel’s jacket when Al thumbed the slide stop lever and the slide shot forward loading the gun with a satisfying _snap_. Anne froze unable to move until Isabel broke the kiss. They separated a few inches both breathing hard.

“All humour aside, I think that’s quite enough,” Al pressed the muzzle into Anne’s eyebrow. Al might have said more, done more, but a voice from the darkest corner of the room surprised them all.

“The FUCK was that!?!”

Al pulled the pistol back and turned toward Alicia.

Unseen by both of them, Anne closed the gap between herself and Isabel again and whispered in Isabel’s ear.

"_That’s our secret; you’ll always be mine.” _

Isabel jerked back and pushed Anne away with a two-handed shove to her chest. Unhurt, Anne leaned against the wall. Slowly, sensuously, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand her eyes on Al.

“Give me that!” After a brief struggle, Alicia wrenched the pistol from Al. When she moved to point it at Anne, Isabel blocked her.

“Don’t,” Isabel said softly.

“Why the fuck not?” Alicia wasn’t looking at Anne or even Isabel, her eyes were on Al.

“Because it’s all just drama,” Al moved to Alicia and took the gun from her unresisting hand. After handing it off to Isabel, she readjusted Alicia’s arm in its sling and pressed her bandage tighter. “You don’t want to be part of this.”

Alicia’s brows knit together and she started to speak, was cut off by Anne.

“Oh, the young and the innocent. She doesn’t yet know the ways of our world, does she, Al? You haven’t taught her yet, have you?”

“Fuck you, bitch!” Alicia lurched forward. Al blocked her with her body.

“Would you like to?” Anne said reasonably. “I’d be down with that. And I promise you, I’d be gentle, being your first time and all.” Anne grinned and winked.

“I get my hands on you,” Alicia hissed and Al had to fight to hold her back. “I will strangle that grin off your face…”

“And then you’ll never know, will you?” The smugness had returned to Anne’s voice. “Never know about your moth…”

Anne didn’t get to finish. Isabel’s left fist shot out and connected with Anne’s cheek and Anne collapsed, out cold, on the floor.


	4. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know I’d give just about anything to be where she was just a few minutes ago.”

Al and Isabel sat side by side, knees touching, on the tailgate of the MRAP eating cups of ramen noodles. It was morning and the sun shone behind the van keeping them in shade for now.

“I’m sorry about that, you know.” Isabel slurped a long noodle and wiped her chin. “The other day. Anne.”

Al reached out hooked her arm around Isabel’s knee pulling herself even closer to the other woman. “She really knows how to fuck with you, doesn’t she?”

“She gets under my skin. I don’t know why I let her.” Isabel gazed off across the factory yard feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

“You’re still attracted to her,” Al slurped a noodle her lips giving a little pop. “Like a moth to a flame or…”

“More like a fly caught in a spider’s web,” Isabel upended her ramen cup pouring the last of the of the liquid into her mouth. “I’m sorry I was weak.”

“Don’t be, any woman that’s not weak around her when she does her thing isn’t human.” Al set her empty cup aside patted Isabel’s knee. “After all that she never did tell us what she’s not done with or whatever.”

“That was probably the point of it all; that and drama for the sake of drama. Sometimes I think it’s all just a game to her. People are just pieces on a board she moves around.”

“I knew a few girls like that in my time. None of them worked for the CIA though.”

“Did they kiss you in front of your girlfriend?”

Al squinted, pretended to think. “Nope. Can’t say that any of them did.”

Isabel hung her head unable to unable to meet Al’s eyes.

“Hey! Listen to me,” Al implored. “You got played by a master, if I’m understanding half of what you told me about her. She knows you, knows where your buttons are and how to push them just right. If it was me, I doubt I could’ve done any better.”

“She thinks you’re cute,” Isabel peered at Al through a fringe of hair that had fallen over her face.

“Chick’s not stupid…” Al wrapped her arms around Isabel’s waist, nuzzled her neck. “She’s right about your passion too.”

“She might get to see more of that if she tries to kiss you.” Isabel let Al push her down on her back.

“Oh, yeah? You think she might?” Al pushed Isabel’s shirt up, tickled her belly.

“Anne would kiss a fucking rock if she thought it would get her what she wanted.”

“Good thing I’m not a rock.”

Her hand moving lower along Isabel’s abdomen, Al lowered herself slowly over her lover until their lips met in a gentle kiss.

**Later**

Al was doing her exercises on the floor of the MRAP. She and Isabel had just come back from the showers and, in the case of Isabel, a visit to Daniel the barber. It was warm in the van so Al had not put on anything else other than her loose shorts and a tank top. Leaning forward in the prayer stretch, Al raised her butt.

“Mmmm, I’m loving this view.”

Al ignored Isabel continuing the stretch. When a hand moved along her inner thigh and up under the leg of her shorts to tease at her pubic hair, Al finally spoke. “Stop that!” she snapped only half serious.

“Nope!”

Isabel’s arms wound around Al’s waist and she felt herself being pushed down and turned at the same time. She landed on her back her head not far from the doorframe with Isabel’s head between her legs.

“Liking this view even better,” Isabel mumbled, her face in Al’s shorts. “Think we should finish what we were doing earlier.”

Al wiggled ineffectually. Isabel’s hands were strong on her hips. She gave up and relaxed when Isabel began pushing the waist band of her shorts down with her chin.

“You want me to close the doors or get your camera?” A new voice asked.

Al’s eyes shot open. Alicia was on the bottom step of the MRAP looking directly down at her.

Al squirmed again pushing at Isabel’s head. “Stop it, Isabel.”

Isabel made a negative sound her face still out of sight to Alicia.

“We have a visitor.”

Isabel sat up quickly her hand reaching for a pistol close by on the bench seat. Even as Alicia moved to sit on the steps, she raised her hand. “Don’t shoot, I’m not Anne.” Alicia’s arm was still in a light sling though she seemed far more recovered than when Al had last seen her.

Sitting back on her haunches, Isabel looked at the pistol in her hand. “Sorry.”

Alicia cocked her head. “Hey, I like your hair. It’s way shorter.”

Al turned on her side to face Alicia. With her foot she pushed at Isabel’s T-shirt revealing her bare abdomen. “I think it makes her look more butch. Don’t you think, Major Marvel?”

Isabel caught Al’s foot and squeezed her big toe. Though she tried to hide it, Al could tell she was blushing.

“Don’t listen to her,” Alicia said to Isabel. “It looks great.”

“Thank you, Alicia.” Needing something to do with her hands, Isabel grabbed a box of 9mm cartridges from under the seat and began loading a magazine.

“So, Anne -- I mean Jadis – is going around inviting people to a yoga class tonight,” Alicia said to Al.

Al had finished adjusting her shorts. Propping one hand under her head, she lay on her side looking at Alicia. “I know. She invited us, Jadis did.”

“What did you say?” Alicia was both surprised and curious.

“Nama-stay away from my girlfriend!” Isabel deadpanned pushing the last round into the mag.

Al laughed. Sitting up she moved closer to Isabel, pushed against her knee. “We’re starting to think she’s going to try her moves on me; Jadis is.”

“Really?” Alicia moved inside the van, sat in front of Al. “I think she might be trying it on me.” Alicia reached out and stroked her knuckles down Al’s bare arm. “’Alicia, you’re so fit already,’” Alicia mimicked Jadis’ high voice. “’I’m sure you don’t need it, but if you want to come, I know I could teach you a few new moves.’”

Al grinned. “What did you say?”

“I asked her how she got the bruise on her face.”

Al laughed again and Isabel snorted. “What did she say to that?”

“I don’t even really remember, it was some mundane excuse,” Alicia sat back. “She really is good, you know, at these games.”

Al noticed Alicia’s cheeks were slightly red and she thought back to how Alicia had just stroked her arm. She wondered if Isabel had noticed and looked at her lover. Isabel gave her a little half wink and smile as she pushed the loaded magazine into a pouch attached to her equipment belt.

“I’m going to go,” Alicia said.

“Be careful, then.” Isabel sat down next to Al with a heavy sigh. “Playing people off against each other is something she does really well.”

“The voice of experience?” Al said gently.

“Yeah,” Isabel stretched out her legs as she looked from Al to Alicia. “There was one time, in the mess hall…” Isabel breathed in and out as the memory returned. “Anne was sitting with some guy, making goo-goo eyes at him and touching him like she did you, Alicia. She was already having sex with me so I thought all of this was for my benefit,” Isabel shook her head lightly. “That wasn’t it at all. One of the scientists, an anthropologist, Doctor Somebody comes in. I think she had been out in the field or otherwise away somewhere for a while. Anyway, she spots them together and literally levitates over there. Trays and food go flying and she’s – Doctor Whatever – yelling ‘blah, blah my fiancé. Blah blah, kill you, you bitch!’ The whole room is listening. Anne is acting all scared and I’m hoping Doctor Crazy is gonna kill her cause that would get me out of the toxic hole Anne dragged me into. It was nuts. Kinda fun, but nuts. She had the silliest accent too, the anthropologist.”

“What happened?” Al and Alicia said at the same time.

Isabel breathed out hard, looked at the ceiling. “He killed himself – the guy -- bullet to the head.” Isabel pointed to her temple, flicked her thumb. “And she went out into the field – I dropped her off – and never came back. Dead, no doubt.”

“So, she’s bi?”

Al gagged trying to laugh and Isabel snorted and shook her head.

“I’m serious! She’s bi?” Alicia repeated her question.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.” Isabel paused thinking. “With her it’s all just tactical. Do whatever you need to do, to whomever you need to do it to, and win the game.”

There was silence for a minute or two. Al watched Alicia; she could tell the younger woman was working up to saying something. She just didn’t get the chance.

“Al, there’s something I wanted to talk to you… actually something I need to…”

Automatic gunfire sounded close by. Two, maybe three, rifles. One after the other.

Isabel pushed Al down; reached out and pulled Alicia into the center of the van. They remained still, in a pile on the floor, until the gunfire stopped.

“One of those was an AK.” Isabel eased the pressure on Al’s back letting her up. “Who has an AK?”

The shooting started again before anyone could answer and this time some of the rounds pinged off the side of the armoured van. Through the back doors Al watched as several high windows of the factory were shot out raining glass down into the courtyard.

“Can we use the guns?” Alicia looked up at the roof of the MRAP.

“No ammo,” Al’s reply was tight with disappointment.

The shooting had stopped for a second time. Isabel had been digging around under the seats and pulled out several weapons. She pushed Al’s rifle toward her and a Glock pistol into Alicia’s hand.

“Where’s the 338 Lapua?”

“The what?” Al was trying to pull on a pair of pants over her shorts, gave up and pulled the shorts off tossing them aside.

“Gonna kill em with yer pubes?” Alicia was watching her.

“The sniper rifle,” Isabel pushed past both Al and Alicia. “It’s not here,” she jumped out of the van.

Al zipped up her pants as she crawled toward the back of the van Alicia beside her.

“Funny how I always seem to catch you with your pants undone,” Alicia was looking at Al her expression half serious, half playful. “You know I’d give just about anything to be where she was just a few minutes ago.”

Al caught her arm before she could exit the MRAP. “Hey, I know, I’m sorry, and all that.” Al squeezed Alicia’s forearm tighter. “Just don’t die today, OK. Not like this.”

Alicia gave a tight nod and hopped down the stairs. Standing near the back of the van and facing the gate, Alicia’s posture instantly changed.

“Logan!” Alicia shot Al a look as she pushed the Glock into the back of her jeans and stalked off toward the gate. Several F-words trailed behind her.

Once out of the van with her pants buttoned up and the sling of her rifle over her back, Al found Isabel on the other side of the MRAP sighting through her scope.

“There’s six of them,” noticing Al’s relaxed posture she stood up looking quizzically at the other woman. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, local asshole.” Al started walking toward the gate where Morgan already stood opposite Logan with Alicia beside him. Logan was several feet back from the fence arms flapping as he gestured.

“Stay here,” Al called back to Isabel and was rewarded with a sour look.

“Who?” Morgan was saying as Al got closer.

“Her! You know,” Logan paused for effect before continuing. As he spoke, he made it seem that every word was difficult; like it pained him to have to explain something to a someone too stupid to understand. “The yoga teach…”

He didn’t get the last syllable out. His lower jaw disintegrated, blood spraying in all directions. As he fell backward, Al heard the crack of a single shot. The man standing behind Logan also fell a round red spot spreading on his white shirt.

“Get down!” Al was already on her knees so she reached up and grabbed Alicia around her waist. Pulling her down, Al partly covered Alicia with her body. Looking back toward the MRAP, she saw Isabel sprinting toward the factory.

“Who fired?” Morgan was down on one knee, hand over his head.

Logan’s people didn’t react nearly as fast. Another fell, his head exploding, before Al heard the shot. The short woman with the AK, Doris, had finally got a fresh mag in her rifle. She was turning toward Al and Alicia on the other side of the fence, the rifle held at her hip, when a shot took her in the throat. Her finger convulsed on the trigger even as her other hand went to her neck in a desperate attempt to staunch the fountain of blood. As her body rotated away from the fence, and the AK barked spewing rounds into the last two of Logan’s men.

Al pushed up to her knees. Looking back to the factory, she could see no movement in any door or window. Remembering what Isabel had said about the sniper rifle she scanned the roof top. Nothing. An image of Isabel running and pointing came to her and she set off toward the MRAP with Alicia behind her shouting, “What?”

At the back of the van she stopped and scanned the roof again. Here there was a section of the building that stood a story higher than the roof near the gate. High enough for a shooter to stay fairly well concealed and still be able to fire on anyone on either side of the gate.

“What’s going on?” Alicia was close at Al’s back. “Where’s Isabel?”

“Sniper,” Al scanned the roofline with her rifle scope.

Later she would realize the only words Morgan heard when he caught up with her and Alicia were ‘Isabel’ and ‘sniper’.

Back at the gate, the shooting had attracted several of the dead who came tottering toward the one live person on the other side of the fence: one of Logan’s men who was mortally wounded. June and John were organizing a group to clear the walkers and Morgan’s attention shifted back to Al.

“A sniper? On our side? Who…?”

In a spectacular display of bad timing, Isabel took that moment to walk out the factory carrying the big rifle she had assembled from one of Anne’s bags of stashed gear the day before.

Carrying it as if she clearly knew what to do with it.

“I found…” Isabel started to say before being cut off by Morgan.

“You were shooting?” Morgan looked from Isabel’s face to the rifle.

“No, it wasn’t me,” Isabel tried to explain. “The scope, isn’t on it, I didn’t have time to mount and zero it yet. Those shots were taken with iron sights. There’s only one person who could…”

Al cringed. This was getting worse by the second. Morgan’s mouth was set in a tight line. He had already made up his mind.

In a show of even more bad timing for Al and Isabel, but perhaps very good timing for herself, Anne came rushing out of the same door Isabel had used looking scared but curious.

“What’s going on?” Anne in her Jadis persona looked around her eyes finally settling on Morgan. “Are you OK?”

“I couldn’t make those shots,” Isabel’s voice was hard. “But she could!”

“Me?” Anne squeaked dramatically.

“She’s…”

Al had started toward Anne ready to slug her when she realized if Isabel tried to explain about Anne, not only was Morgan unlikely to believe her, it would create even more questions, questions that were far too difficult to answer.

“Why would you shoot them,” Morgan turned on Isabel. “They were just here to talk.”

“It wasn’t me! It was…” Isabel was clearly not used to being accused of something she didn’t do and had a good explanation for why it wasn’t her.

Al moved in front of Isabel, one hand out to hold her back, the other pointing at Morgan. “Stop it right now! If she says it wasn’t her, it wasn’t!”

“And I’m supposed to believe an art teacher is actually a sniper!” Morgan sniffed raising his stick.

Al’s hand went to the pistol grip of her rifle though she did not point it at him. Her intent was clear though, clear enough that Morgan went into a fighting posture stick held high.

“Stop it!” Alicia moved between them. “Put that fucking stupid stick down before I break it over my fucking knee.”

Morgan relaxed his stance the authority in Alicia’s voice crystal clear.

Al looked at Isabel. She and Anne were locked in an obvious hate stare. Al gave Isabel a nudge. “Go in the MRAP, please. I’ll be OK.”

Isabel retreated reluctantly. When Al turned back to the others, Alicia was standing in front of Morgan, arms crossed on her chest.

“I said,” she repeated slowly. “Who was he asking for? At the gate. Who was Logan asking for?”

Before Morgan could answer, Anne stepped forward. “Me,” she said softly, timidly. “He wanted me… back.”

Al’s mouth dropped open. Alicia turned to Al in amazement.

Anne wasn’t done.

“Last night,” taking a couple steps toward Morgan her voice growing stronger, Anne continued. “I went out to meet him. He wanted me back,” her hand went to her bruised cheek. “He hit me.” The quaver in her voice astounded Al but clearly sucked in Morgan. “I might’ve talked to him, reasoned with him, but now he’s dead because she,” raising her long, thin arm she pointed at the MRAP and Isabel standing just inside, “shot him!”

There was perfect silence for a very long moment. Al was watching Isabel, saw the other woman’s fists clenched at her sides. How she managed not to attack Anne she couldn’t figure.

Alicia was frozen in place gazing at Anne. “Holy fucking fuck!” she turned to Al. “Un-fucking believable!”

“Yes, it is,” Morgan misinterpreted. “She can’t stay here,” with his stick he gestured at Isabel. “If she’s just going to shoot whoever…”

Isabel jumped down from the MRAP her boots hitting the gravel with a solid thunk. “If I could shoot anyone I wanted, I’d start with her!” She pointed at Anne.

Anne shrunk back shifting behind Morgan.

Alicia saw this. “Bitch, please!”

Al stepped in front of Isabel holding her back. “Not helping… She’s got us…”

“Fucked, I know.”

**Later**

The only one that truly argued for them was Alicia. Strand and June gave up when Al asked them to. Alicia was different; she was angry.

“I swear that man listens to only his own voice.” Alicia was watching as Al and Isabel loaded a couple of large gas cans on the top of the MRAP. “The way she’s acting around him, he might be thinking with another body part too.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt your shoulder when I dragged you down,” Al said walking closer to Alicia.

Alicia touched the bandage as if noticing it for the first time. “Nah, that’s nothing. It’s healing. And it better be! I’m gonna need two good hands to strangle that bitch.”

“You need to be careful,” Isabel joined them. “She’s…”

“Yes, I know,” Alicia snapped. “A master manipulator and all that.” She shifted her feet, smiled slightly, continued in a softer voice. “I know you said I could come with you in your banishment,” the smile she gave Al was gentle. “I need to stay here. There’s things I have to do.”  
“With us gone she will probably…”

“Come after me? Yeah, I know. I’m hoping she does!” Al and Isabel exchanged a look when Alicia said this. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Alicia said. “She’s some super spy or whatever. I can play games too.”

Al remembered the plaid shirt and went to the back of the MRAP to grab it. She held it out to Alicia. “Wear this when you talk to her.”

Alicia grinned. “It was hers?”

Al nodded.

“She might be a spy and all that, but I was in high school before this. If anyone knows how to play games, it’s me.”

A crowd had begun to gather behind them. Word must have leaked out they were leaving – banished as Alicia called it. Al took a few minutes to go around speaking to each of her friends. Most were like Sarah when she said, “You’ll be back soon enough.” Morgan stayed in the background and Al thought to herself that even if he had changed his mind, they would leave anyway. Anne had sown the seeds of distrust of Isabel and it could only get worse not better.

Alicia gave Isabel a hug before following Al to the driver’s side of the big van. “Just tell me you’ll be careful.” Al held her as tight as she thought safe.

“I will,” Alicia squeezed Al harder in return moving her head to Al’s other side so no one could hear what she said. “Listen. I’m going to do my own spy thing. We can’t talk on the walkies – who knows who will be listening? I’ll leave you messages. You know that little lending library out at the junction of 270? I’ll leave you a message in a book like Nancy Drew.”

“I was always more into the Hardy Boys,” Al replied keeping her voice low.

Alicia giggled in Al’s ear. “Listen on Channel 2 at midnight. If I left a message, I’ll key the mike three times.”

Al felt her chest tighten. She was going to miss this girl and if anything happened…

“I love you, you know,” Al heard herself saying.

“I know,” Alicia whispered. “Don’t die today, or tomorrow or any day, OK?”

“You either.”

Alicia pulled back from Al, reached out to touch her cheek. “Alright then. Take care.” With a wave to Isabel she turned and stalked away glaring at Morgan as she went.

Al said nothing to anyone else, just climbed up into the MRAP and revved the engine.

Once outside the gate and a fair way down the road, Isabel looked at Al. “Why are you smiling?”

“Alicia. She’s going to leave us messages. At a dead drop. I’ll show you.”

The lending library was a small glass fronted cabinet on a post next to a tree someone had painted a white bird shape on. Al pulled off the paved road and onto a rough track that lead away into the woods. When the van was out of sight from the road, she hopped out followed by Isabel.

Up close the cabinet was almost like a little house with a shingled roof. Although one of the glass panels was cracked, the books seemed dry tucked at the back as they were. Al pushed past a copy of The Little Prince. Behind it she saw the familiar yellow spine of a Nancy Drew novel and two blue backs of Hardy Boys books. Grabbing one of the blue ones she pulled it out. It was the third in the series. Al vaguely recalled it.

Isabel peered over her shoulder. “The Secret of the…” she didn’t finish just turned and went back to the van. Al watched as she pulled open one of the back doors and disappeared inside. When Al looked in, Isabel was unrolling the detailed terrain map and something else that looked like a satellite image.

Al left her to it and walked back to the driver’s side still holding the book. It was one of the middle editions – 60s or 70s -- Al was familiar with. Not one of the oldest and not one of the newest. Flipping back the cover she wondered if she would see her own name, Althea, crossed out and replaced by her brother Jesse’s name.

She had read the first page when a very slight movement directly in front of her in the brush caught her attention. Staying perfectly still she raised her eyes over the top of the book.

The brush was very heavy about twenty-five feet in front of her most of it dry and wilted. A grouse took another tentative step forward and when it paused, only the red stripe over its eye gave away its position. Its camouflage was almost perfect. So was the camouflage of the large truck.

Very slowly Al placed the book on the running board of the MRAP with her left hand while with her right, she drew one of her knives. Just as slowly she tapped three times on the side of the MRAP with the T shaped handle of her knife.

The van moved just slightly letting Al know Isabel had dismounted. After another moment Al heard a footstep on the other side of the van at the front. She saw Isabel’s rifle barrel first as she moved toward Al.

“Do you want me to shoot it?” Isabel said very softly. “It will have to be a head shot or there won’t be anything to eat.”

It took Al a minute. Following where Isabel’s rifle was aiming, she watched the grouse begin to walk slowly away.

“Not that, babe.” Al moved out to the front of the van her gaze on the truck mostly hidden under brush.

Instantly Isabel’s rifle snapped up. “You see anyone, babe?”

Al laughed and put her knife away. Approaching the truck, she started to pull away the brush concealing it. Isabel moved around like a commando pointing her rifle under it, in windows and behind bushes.  
Al was beginning to get an idea of who this vehicle belonged to when she met Isabel at the back.

“This belong to the dead guy you think?” Isabel asked.

“You read my mind.” Al climbed onto the tailgate and pulled aside the canvas.

Isabel climbed up beside her panning her rifle around the interior. All that could be seen in the dim light were boxes, crates and other containers. Taking a small mag light from her pocket, Isabel turned it on. The brighter light revealed nothing living.

“Funny, when I read your mind all I usually get is sex and food.” Isabel moved inside. With her foot, she flipped back the top of a plastic bin. Inside were packages of dehydrated meals. “No sex here but lots of food.”

“And when I read your mind,” Al was inside the truck now too. “What I see is sex and guns and ammo.”  
A crate at her feet held military ammo cans. Opening one, Al whistled. Inside were linked rounds of 5.56 NATO.

“That what your guns take?”

“We’re back in business, baby!”

**Later**

They decided the best course of action was to take the truck with them. It contained nearly a tank full of gas, and far too many goodies, to be left behind.

Isabel was circumspect about where they were going. Al could tell from the direction that they were headed, that they were going back to the general vicinity of the barn and the old house. “I saw it on the sat pics,” Isabel had said. “I just forgot about it until I saw that book.”

Al drove the MRAP following Isabel in the deuce and a half truck. They headed up the road Al had pulled into, took another track that headed back toward the factory before getting on another less well travelled trail that followed a stream deep into the woods.

After more than an hour of slow driving the trail ended in a slight clearing. Al pulled up behind the truck and shut off the engine when she saw Isabel step down from the truck’s cab.

Standing side by side they stared at the huge hulking remains of the ancient building in front of them. Sun glinted off the still water visible through gaps in the frame of the building and, here and there, a hardwood tree grew next to the stone foundation.

Al had never seen anything quite so idyllic or prophetic.

Isabel took Al’s hand, squeezed it.

“What was the title of that book again, Joe?”


	5. The Old Mill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This space would’ve made a nice dining room for the bed and breakfast. I think I’ll put one of the guns right here.”

They spent the first night in the MRAP. It was too late in the day to do anything other than take a cursory walk around in search of anything living or dead. They found nothing. They also didn’t find a way to cross the cut channel that separated the remains of the mill from the clearing where they had stopped their vehicles.

When they settled in to sleep, Isabel’s head on Al’s shoulder, Al felt that Isabel was happier now than she had ever been since they had been reunited. Al wondered how she could be happy when Al had been separated from her friends and it was just the two of them.

It came to her as Isabel sighed against her neck. It was just the two of them. No Anne lurking in the background, no Morgan taking her side. Just Alicia, who they both trusted. And Alicia was only a message in a book away. Here they would start building a life together. What happened with her friends back at the factory was a question Al was willing to put aside for at least another day.

In the morning Al woke to an empty spot beside her. Rolling over she buried her face in the blankets that had once covered Isabel and breathed deeply. Isabel’s scent was becoming so familiar and comforting and still didn’t fail to give her a slight stir of arousal. She lay for a moment thinking and her mind ticked through all the new food they had found in the truck yesterday. There had been coffee and breakfast meals. Real breakfast like eggs and…

Al pulled on her pants over a rumbling stomach. She found Isabel sitting on a stack of planks next to the deep channel. Sun shone down through the tall trees their leaves just beginning to turn the reds and golds of fall. High above a thrush was singing and, as Al watched, Isabel raised her head and looked up.

It was perfect. Isabel, caught in a beam of sunshine, birds singing, the breeze warm, and…

“There’s food, Al.”

“I know, I can smell it.” Al took a seat on the makeshift bench and took the cup Isabel handed her. She held it in front of her breathing in the coffee scented steam. “This is nice.” Al sipped her coffee.

The front wall of the mill was mostly gone yet Al could see it still had three distinct stories. The second floor, in the middle was concrete and rose from a foundation made partly of old stones and partly of poured concrete.

“It was rebuilt sometime in the past,” Isabel said following Al’s gaze. Al set aside her coffee and reached for the food pouch near the Primus stove. When she opened it, a familiar and welcome smell met her nose.

“Huevos rancheros,” Al said her Spanish perfect. “I guess I never told you I grew up in New Mexico.”

“I’m hoping we will have time to catch up on a lot more.” Isabel took a deep breath, smiled contentedly. “This is very nice.”

As Al ate, Isabel talked about what she had seen walking around earlier while Al slept. The mill was unique as it was powered by not one but two wheels. The older wheel, the original one, was on the stream side. It was long since decayed and collapsed against the building, the mill race still holding some water in a pool under it. The second wheel was smaller, Isabel explained, and it was in the channel just below where the channel met the lake.

“What’s great about all of this is we can get across there by the small wheel. There’s a plank. And once we get the water running through the channel again, nothing can get to us.”

The mill was protected on the far side by a small lake, to the right by the stream, and in front of them and to the left by the L shaped channel.

Still eating her breakfast, Al stood up and looked down into the channel. “There was a bridge here, looks like.”

Isabel joined her. “Yeah, kinda reminds me of a temporary military thing.”

“More like a draw bridge for a castle,” Al said around a mouthful of food.

Isabel blinked and leaned out farther to look more closely at the steel beams and heavy wood planks laying against the far side.

“Me thinks mine fair lady dost know her castle,” Isabel grinned. “I can see now where the posts were over there that held the chains. At some point the posts gave out and the bridge fell in the channel. We can use the winch on the MRAP to haul it up out of there and put it back in place.”

“And drive my MRAP across.”

Isabel hugged Al around her waist. “Don’t worry, we’re not leaving your baby behind.”

It took the better part of the day to raise the old draw bridge up from the channel and maneuver it into place across the twenty something foot gap. Al marveled at Isabel’s engineering acumen and her patience. Sitting beside her, eating a late lunch, she told her as much.

“I flew F18s,” Isabel said as if this explained everything. Looking up at the blue sky above them she sighed.

“You’re going to miss it, aren’t you?” Al took her hand.

“I already do. No one has flown jets for a couple of years now. Helicopters, small fixed wing aircraft; that’s about it.” Isabel stood and rubbed her hands on her thighs. “Let’s get the MRAP across and we can check out the mill properly.”

The brackets holding the four corners of the bridge groaned under the weight of the heavy van, but held. Al parked in front of the wide wooden doors – one open and hanging loose on its hinges – on the lower level of the mill and walked back.

Isabel was thinking aloud: “We can slide it back across to this side instead of raising it. When I have time, I can get some sort of rollers under it to make it easier. If we lock it in place when we are on this side…”

Al had started to wander away. Grabbing on to the loose door, she wrenched it open. Isabel joined her and pulled open the other door. This one moved with less effort on nearly new looking hinges. Inside the space was cavernous. The floor was stone and patched in several places. At the back, up against the foundation were several stacks of lumber and other building supplies.

“Someone has been working in here,” Al ran her hand through the dust on a big work bench nearly covered in tools and boxes of nails, screws and all sorts of other material for building.

“Probably going to renovate and open a bed and breakfast.”

Al sneezed and laughed walking back out into the open area. Above them huge beams spanned the space from the existing floor of the second story and over to the far left wall. If there had been a floor above them, it was long gone now.

The space they were standing in could hold three MRAP vans.

“We can drive the van in,” Isabel gestured, “turn it just enough so that we can bring the guns to bear on the bridge.” She was smiling. “This place is nearly perfect. In a strategic sense.”

Al was gazing up at the second story a good twenty feet above them. There seemed to be no way up.

“The fields of fire from up there are great,” Isabel was gesturing again. “If we rebuild that front wall and set up a couple gun emplacements…”

Al was rolling her eyes. “Yes, General. Fort Murray sounds impregnable. While you were decorating with machine guns, I was thinking about where we can put a bed and fireplace. Maybe even a toilet.”

“Toilet is good,” Isabel grabbed Al around the waist from behind and squeezed her. “Bed is better.”

A playful wrestling match ensued ending when Isabel tackled Al into a pile of straw in the back corner. When Al fell backwards, she hit her elbow on something hard. Brushing aside the straw revealed a homemade ladder. A ladder that easily reached the second floor.

There was already a fireplace and it was huge. Al could almost walk into it. The chimney, like all of the wall that faced the small lake, was intact. Inside the hearth were several old iron pots and debris from long ago fires. Someone might have lived, or camped here some years ago.

Isabel stood at the edge of the concrete floor staring out over the clearing and the stream. “This space would’ve made a nice dining room for the bed and breakfast. I think I’ll put one of the guns right here.”

Al laughed though she did agree that the place Isabel indicated had a clear view down over the bridge, into the clearing, and even down the narrow road.

Back near the fireplace was a hole in the floor large enough to accommodate a stairway though nothing was left except an iron rail, mostly still standing, that partially enclosed the opening. Not far from that was a large round stone lying flat in the middle of the floor. It had a hole in the center though no trace of gears remained.

A good part of the stream side wall remained intact and Al looked down at the old wheel below and the pool of dark water beneath it. At the far corner was a doorway. Al joined Isabel there and they looked out over the overgrown meadow that sloped gently down to the lake. To the right the lake poured down over a worn stone dam. Though it continued on the other side, in the center, part of the dam was missing. The gap provided a barrier to any walkers that might try to reach the mill. Next to the mill, the dam redirected some water as it left the lake, into a mill race channel that ran on towards the wheel.

Off to the left, the opening of the cut channel that Al could now see was a smaller spillway, was blocked by two iron gates that were operated by hand cranks on either side of the channel. The lake water was funnelled into the spillway as it narrowed toward the second, smaller wheel. A small amount of water was able to trickle through a gap in the spillway gate doors, but the flow got no further than the wheel where it pooled rippling in the breeze.

“We open that up, clear the debris around the wheel, and we have a perfect moat!” Isabel gestured to the spillway that made a near ninety degree turn as it curved around behind the mill.

“You’re loving this aren’t you?” Al leaned into her companion.

“Every single second!” Isabel kissed Al’s cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

In front of them a worn stone stairway curved up from the little meadow and ended, the last landing out in space in front of them, about fifteen feet from where they stood. Below, a jumble of stones attested to a connection between stairway and building that once was.

“Shall I toss you across?” Al gripped Isabel’s pants at the back.

“A human might make it, but the dead won’t. Not either way,” Isabel turned back inside moving to stand next to the mill stone. “I’m thinking of it as more of a castle than a fort.” Lying flat of the stone she stared up at the sky. “I believe this will make a nice bed.”

“With a bit of cushioning,” Al said lying beside her. “I saw some beautiful castles when I went to Poland as a kid.”

“Then you can be the princess of… what was it? Castle Sawchuck Perogy?” Curling into a ball and turning away, Isabel tried unsuccessfully to block Al’s pokes and jabs.

The next day brought two discoveries. One for Al and one for Isabel.

Al was exploring the end of the small spillway where it joined the main mill race below the big wheel. Here the gap was wide, but not completely impassable for a human. The clearing side of the channel ended in a concrete wall that tapered downward as it met the stream, the shoreline sandy above the waterline, muddy below.

Sliding on her bum down to the water’s edge, Al looked up at the mill. The side wall stood high and straight above her several gaps for windows on the second story and above. Where the foundation met the narrow strip of ground between the mill and the mill race, the old stones were crumbling.

The pool below the collapsed wheel was deep and surprising clear. It was separated from the stream by another wall of stones and this too sloped downward in a series of broad stone steps. Where the end of the mill race pool met the stream and the stone wall separating the two, water swirled in a mini whirlpool. The result of this was that the water would be deep, somewhat turbulent and hard to cross. Except that the small spillway wasn’t flowing and sand had been shifted from the shoreline where Al stood, outward toward the mill side forming a narrow bar Al could wade across.

Popping off her boots, Al started across. The water was up to the middle of her thighs when she reached the end of the sand bar. With one very long stride she was able to reach the last submerged step of the mill race wall, but the current here pushed her down and out into the stream before, wallowing up to her neck, she was able to grab onto an iron ring and pull herself up and out of the water. Looking back, she breathed deeply. It was passable; just barely. General Murray will have to decide how to shore up the defenses here, Al thought.

Water streaming from her soaked pants and shirt, Al walked up the mill race wall toward the dam. The stream flowed fast through the broad gap in the dam to her right. The gap the dead couldn’t cross. As Al stood in the warm sun pulling off her shirt and wringing it out, she watched a walker on the other side opposite her begin to walk across the dam, arm out and reaching for her. When it reached the broken part of the dam, it simply stepped out into the stream flow and was carried off downstream.

Carrying her shirt, Al headed toward the front of the mill. The water level of the mill race was controlled by gates here that Al was able to wade across. Only an inch or two of water fell over the top of the closed gates where the level of the lake was high enough as it was now. Al could see how sometime in the past, a trough had run from the control gates, then alongside of the mill to where it ended above the wheel. The rusting iron brackets still hung from the side of the mill.

Where the old stone stairs curved and rose up toward the second story was a small alcove protecting a heavy iron door. The grass in front of the door was flattened. Curious, Al followed a path toward the door. Here and there she could make out what almost seemed like footprints. Just in front of the door that didn’t budge in the least when she tried it, Al sat in the flattened grass. From here she had a perfect view out across the dam and the lake and down into the mill race.

Beside her the wall was partly made of large bricks the one right at the level of her elbow hanging half out. She had convinced herself that the tracks were made by a deer and the flattened area was where it had lain in the sun, when something shiny in the grass next to her left knee caught her attention. Shell casings five or six of them lay in the soft ground several pressed into the earth where she had stepped on them.

Al had picked one up and was rubbing the dirt from the base of it when she heard Isabel calling her name. The call was loud but not urgent. A shout to get her attention not report that her life was in peril. Reaching out to the wall to push herself up, Al’s hand contacted the loose brick knocking it out of the wall. Gaining her feet, she pushed the shell casing into the pocket of her wet pants. When she bent to pick up the brick and replace it, she noticed a metal box inside the wall.

Thinking it might be a sort of cornerstone time capsule, Al pulled it out. Tucking it under her arm she went to find Isabel.

Isabel met her at the control gates of the small spillway. Dropping the heavy plank she had been dragging, she squinted at Al. “I thought I told you not to go around unarmed.”

Al set aside the metal box and pulled the plank into place on her side of the gap. Still shirtless, she flexed a bicep at Isabel and grinned.

“Nice guns,” Isabel’s eyes moved lower. “Those are nice too. You go for a swim? What’s with that?”

Al pulled on her shirt and paced across the plank. “Thanks, babe; yes, kinda, and I dunno. Maybe a time capsule. What were you yelling about?”

Isabel’s mind immediately switched gears. “Let me show you,” she said with a broad smile.

There was a path through the woods just up from the edge of the lake. Tall, straight trunked pine trees grew here and the forest floor was soft with years of dropped needles. Al breathed deeply of the sweet scent of warm pine sap and moss.

At the end of the path was the backdoor of a cabin. They didn’t go in right away; Isabel led Al around to the other side where an old pickup truck with two flat tires sat in front of a shed attached to the cabin.

“That’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

The hood and roof of the truck were nearly covered with dead pine needles and small branches. Isabel was standing at the back of the truck. She had pulled aside a tarp that had been protecting the cargo in the truck’s bed. Al looked in. Windows in frames, some small and some large like someone would install in a big space to let in lots of light.

“Renovator guy?” Al looked at Isabel.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Isabel said and turned toward the shed. Shining her flashlight inside she let the beam settle on a something along the back wall.

“Oooo, a dirt bike!” Al moved inside and looked over the machine. It looked intact though the tires could use air. “Might not be too hard to get going.”

“That’s what I was thinking. C’mon, let’s go in the cottage.”

The cabin was one large room except for a curtained area that contained a composting toilet and a large wash tub. In one corner was a sturdy cot the blankets and pillows musty with neglect. An old enamel sink with an ancient hand pump sat under a window that faced the lake. Al could see part of a screened porch through the window.

There was a stain on the window. Rising up on her toes, Al looked over the sink and immediately recoiled. “Did you see…”

“Yes.” Isabel went out onto the porch with Al following. “Renovator guy.”

He sat on a wicker couch slumped to the side. The stain on the window Al had seen was blood and brain matter dried to a sludge brown. Under his plaid flannel shirt and work pants, his corpse was shriveled, long dried out. Insect activity and other scavengers had long since come and gone.

Isabel took a small revolver from the lap of the dead man. “Same Smith and Wesson model in .32 H&R Magnum.” She snapped open the cylinder. “One gone.”

“That’s all he needed. Not like them,” Al said referring to the old house with the five suicide victims. “You can keep it. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

They stood for a moment looking from the dead builder to the view of the lake that was a big part of his last moment on earth.

“We can bury him later,” Isabel said sticking the revolver in the back pocket of her pants. “There’s more good stuff inside.”

The screen door snapping shut at her heels, Al followed Isabel back inside. Isabel pointed up. Hanging from the rafters were two bicycles. Mountain bikes. Al felt her jaw go slack. “Can you…”

Using a step ladder Isabel brought them down one by one. The first was a fairly new looking Kona with front and rear disk brakes, telescoping front forks and integrated rear suspension. The frame was large, the seat set at a height appropriate for the dead man. Other than the tires needing some air it looked…  
“Good to go,” Al grinned at Isabel.

The second bike was a Scott. Similar to the first with disk brakes and twenty-nine-inch wheels except this one was a hard tail. It was a smaller frame and looked far more used.

“Hard tail?” Isabel looked at Al.

“Means it doesn’t have rear suspension.”

“You know your way around mountain bikes, I guess.”

Al had lowered the seat of the Kona slightly and straddled it. “More teenage rebellion,” Al’s grin was wicked. For a moment Isabel thought she might put foot to pedal and ride off out the door.

“Oh, speaking of teenage rebellion,” Isabel rested the second bike against the sink. “I have something for you. Or rather renovator guy does.”

Crossing to the bed, Isabel pulled a guitar case from under the bunk. Placing it in front of Al she stepped back. Al didn’t move. “There’s something in it. A guitar I think, I mean, I didn’t open it.” Isabel was babbling. Al was staring at the guitar case her expression unreadable. For just a moment Isabel found herself hoping it contained a nail gun or sub-machine gun; something other than a guitar.

Al knelt next to the case still hesitating to open it.

“I know you told me you don’t play anymore, after what… after that story you told me about…”

“It’s OK, Isabel,” Al cut off the other woman’s babbling. “That’s in the past. It’s gone.”

Leaning forward, Al snapped open the latches. When the top of the case fell open, Isabel saw Al’s eyes widen. Then blink and blink again. Her lips were moving but no sound was coming out.

Taking the guitar carefully from the case, Al looked into the sound hold toward the neck. “It’s a Martin. Vintage. Made in the nineteen fifties by the serial number.” She sat back on her haunches the guitar on her thighs.

“This is good?” Isabel still wasn’t sure what to make of Al’s mood.

“Very good,” Al placed the guitar back in the case. “If Google and the Internet still existed, I’d look up the serial number and find out for sure how old it is. These guitars increased in value… well that doesn’t matter now.”

She stood up, dusted off her hands. Looking from the guitar to mountain bikes Al grinned again. “I’m really liking this dude. If he wasn’t dead, I’d marry him.”

“And power tools,” Isabel added. “He had power tools.”

**A day later, late evening**

Isabel sat cross legged on one side of the fire working in her notebook by the light of a small battery lamp. Al placed the faded Polaroid photos and the big brass key back in the metal box. In the very bottom there had been several pressed flowers that Al had not disturbed. She placed it on the mantelpiece. Isabel had the last item from the box: a sheet of yellowed paper with a delicate cursive script. It wasn’t easily readable and Isabel had been working the last couple evenings to transcribe it. Al thought of the box as a personal time capsule.

Their time had been taken up with making the mill safe and habitable. The composting toilet had been moved to the lower level of the mill, the water was now flowing fast in the small spillway and Isabel had even rigged up running water to the second story by way of a long eavestrough and the wash tub from the cabin. The trough extended from the mill race through a hole in the wall near the big water wheel. Al luxuriated in splashing clean cold water on her face in the morning.

Al took the spent casing out of her pocket again and rolled it between her fingers.

“It’s a common caliber; .45 long Colt.” Isabel looked up from her notebook. “Probably a cowboy gun like a single action revolver. Like one of John’s.”

“It’s just kinda creepy though.” Al flicked the casing into the fire.

“Creepy describes the poem she wrote.” Isabel refolded the old page and placed it deeper in her notebook.

“She?”

“The girl,” Isabel gestured to the mantle and the box containing the faded photos of a teenage girl and boy with cowboy hats and big grins. “The voice is female, I think.”

Isabel hesitated then passed her notebook to Al. “It starts off sweet. Young lovers meeting in secret. Then it takes a turn…”

Al wasn’t listening. She had read through the first two verses. The third verse was like cold fingers touching her bare arm. And the last verse:

_Meet me at the old mill, I’ve said to time as the years have passed. I’ve followed the path trod by my grief. Down into my empty heart lost to you. From the still water do you wait for me?_

Al let out a deep breath and handed the notebook back to Isabel. A long minute went by. “This old mill has its secrets.”

“Yes, it does,” Isabel replied. “I looked, you know.” When Al just shook her head, Isabel continued quoting the last two lines from the third verse of the poem. _“’Down below the wheel in the dark hollow. In the still water that’s where you fell.’_ There’s no skeleton under there, at least that I could see.”

“Shit, Isabel! How am I supposed to sleep now?”

“I can think of a few ways to help with that, the not sleeping part.” Isabel’s smile was mischievous.

Al went to her and, pushing her knees apart, settled between Isabel’s legs her back to Isabel’s warm chest. Isabel wrapped her arms around Al and interlaced their fingers her palms on the backs of Al’s hands.

Sap popped in a log in the fire and Isabel nibbled Al’s ear. “I love you, Althea,” Isabel whispered. “My sweet and tender Al.”

Al turned in Isabel’s arms so their eyes could meet.

“I love you too, Isabel,” Al’s voice was tight. “I’m sorry I’m not as poetic.”

Isabel feigned a sad face. “No, maybe you’re not. You’re something else.” Isabel hesitated a moment and began to sing. _“You give me love, love, love, love crazy love…”_

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” Al smiled and touched Isabel’s lower lip with the tip of her finger. “How could I forget?”

Isabel laughed hugging Al tight to her chest.

“Can you imagine us in college?” Al started.

“Oh, can I ever,” Isabel responded. “You would play in the pub on open mike nights. I’d sit there, right in the middle where you could see me and write in my notebook.”

“Not paying me any attention?”

“Every once in a while, I’d look up at you and give you an enigmatic smile. A smile that would make you squirm on your stool and maybe miss a chord.”

“I’d never miss a chord,” Al said indignantly.

“Shush! My story. After you finished your set, I would just smile as all the other girls applauded. I would see the puzzled look on your face and make sure you were watching as I made a check mark in my notebook then put it away.”

“Enigmatic, all right.”

“Then I’d disappear. You’d think I was gone and you’d be disappointed you didn’t get to give me your number.”

Al made a little ‘hmmmph’ of disappointment against Isabel’s chest.

“But then, you walk outside, and I’m there in my motorcycle jacket and aviator shades leaning against my bike waiting for you.”

“Harley?”

“Ducati Monster. Fire engine red.”

Al sucked in a breath. “Hot!”

“I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just walk up to you, take the guitar case from your hand and set it down gently – it’s a vintage Martin after all. Then I would push you up against the wall and kiss you deep and…”

“Like this?” Al interrupted. Pushing Isabel flat on her back she leaned in to slowly kiss her.

“Yeah, something like that.”

**A bit later**

Al was still catching her breath when Isabel’s watch beeped signalling it was five minutes to midnight. Rolling away from Isabel she pawed around until she found the walkie at the edge of their sleeping pad. Turning it on, she laid it on the pillow between them.

“Always waiting for some chick to call,” Isabel traced her fingernails along Al’s bare thigh, over her ribs to the side of her breast.

“What can I say? I can’t help it that all the girls love me.”

Isabel just laughed and they waited the last couple minutes until midnight. And this night, at midnight, it happened.

Right on the hour the walkie gave three distinct static clearing clicks followed by a sound that Al interpreted as Alicia blowing a raspberry, up close and wet, into her walkie.


	6. Underneath the Stars I Had an Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Funny, I thought your hands would be cold.”

They decided to ride the mountain bikes. When Al took the Kona preparing to swing her leg over the frame, Isabel crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m taller.”

“By what? An inch?”

“Hard ass suits you more than me,” Isabel teased reaching a long arm out to slap at Al’s behind.

“Hard tail.” Al dodged. “Get your nomenclature right, dude!”

“Al!” Isabel said with enough seriousness to her voice to make Al stop and turn. “Come here! I think you hurt your mouth with that word!”

“Sheesh! Fall in love with a poet and your every utterance gets analyzed!”

Al enjoyed the ride. Isabel not so much. Al eventually got tired of hearing complaints of “my ass hurts” and tuned her out.

They encountered several dead along the road on both the way to the lending library and on the way back. Each time Al stayed to the side while Isabel dismounted and took them out with the trident bayonet on her rifle.

“At least you’re good for something,” Al said over her shoulder as she pedaled away. They were almost back to the mill and Al was hungry.

“Funny,” Isabel caught up to Al. “That’s what I was saying about you last night!”

It began to rain just as they replaced the plank they used as a footbridge across the spillway. Isabel copied Al and put her bike on her shoulder and walked across. They dragged the makeshift bridge over to the mill side and left it in the grass. Isabel would never be too cautious, Al thought, as they stowed the bikes and dug the ladder out of the straw.

On the second floor Isabel went to the fireplace to stir the still warm embers and add fresh fuel. Al dropped the Nancy Drew book -- The Clue in the Crumbling Wall – on the bench in front of the fire and went to the wash tub.

The floor above the fireplace was still solid and covered about thirty feet of their living space. The rest of the space Isabel had covered with a camo patterned tarp she had found in the builder’s shed. The tarp covered their sleeping area and the space near the wash tub. When it wasn’t raining, like last night, they could pull back the tarp and sleep underneath the stars.

Rain tippy tapped on the tarp above her as Al washed and changed her clothes. Isabel, still cautious, had left to take a walk around so Al poured water into the smallest of the cast iron pots and swung it on its bracket over the fire.

Pieces of firewood being tossed from the lower level up to the second story announced Isabel’s return from patrol. Al took a couple of the split logs to put on the fire and the rest she piled to the side. Hot chocolate and beef stew were ready by the time Isabel had washed, changed and joined Al in front of the fire. As they ate, they both stole looks at the book and the note it contained. Once the meal was finished, they could wait no longer.

“OK, let’s see what Nancy Drew has been up to…”

_I’m not going to ask how you two are or what you’ve been up to because I can imagine. Well, in my mind some of the wilder things probably aren’t anatomically possible, but you know what I mean. I just hope you’re getting out of the MRAP and getting a bit of fresh air now and again. _   
_So, things have been pretty boring here except for Anne. She’s really good at keeping things interesting. Before I get into that I guess I should tell you what I was trying to tell you the other day before Logan started shooting up the place and Anne went all Atomic Blonde on his sorry ass. And I do mean sorry, cause that was a waste if I ever saw one. Not that anyone actually knows the truth and blames her other than me. Everyone blames Major Marvel of course._   
_Anyway, this isn’t easy, but you should know and it’s on me that I didn’t have the guts to tell you days ago. When I jumped Anne and the gun went off, she leaned over me and said as sweet as anything “Your mother says Hi.”_

Al nearly dropped the letter. Before picking up Alicia’s narrative again, she took a few minutes to fill Isabel in on Madison Clarke and briefly, the rest of Alicia’s now dead family.

_I admit, that’s why I was so gung-ho to get at Anne and strangle the truth out of her. What truth there is in that woman, of course. She was just starting to say something that time when Major Marvel slugged her. Which, don’t get me wrong, was fully justified. I mean I was going to shoot the bitch myself. _   
_So, I’ve made it my mission to get her to talk to me. To tell me the effing truth! Call me naïve, or innocent or whatever it doesn’t matter. I wanted the truth, the story as you would say, Al. I just didn’t think it could cost me so much and I think it surprised me how far I was willing to go. _   
_I guess I’ve got your attention now! Here’s how it all went down…_

**Four days ago, back at the denim factory**

Alicia waited around the corner. When Anne came out of the common room, Alicia fell into step beside her. “I think we should start a drama club,” Alicia said before Anne could start – and direct – the conversation. “You and Jadis could lead it. Or whichever one you think would be the best… leader.”

  
Alicia had begun to think of Anne in terms of they/them pronouns.

Anne said nothing until they had turned into a quieter hallway then she just leaned against the wall and looked at Alicia. Moving close, right into her personal space, Alicia stared up at Anne. “Or you could give me some private lessons, if you think that’s more appropriate.”

For a moment Anne didn’t react and Alicia wondered if her mind was working, analyzing, trying to find the right way to play this to turn it to her advantage. Holding the taller woman’s gaze wasn’t easy so Alicia conjured an image of gears clicking and clanking in Anne’s head.

Anne smiled slowly though her eyes remained calm and expressionless. “Laying all your cards on the table is an interesting opening gambit.” With her thumb she touched Alicia’s lower lip and then, using just the tips of her fingers along Alicia’s cheek, Anne smoothed a few stray hairs behind Alicia’s ear.

“What do you think I can teach you?” Anne moved infinitesimally closer to the shorter, younger woman.

Alicia didn’t back down. “We can start with how to get what I want out of people.”

“Someone holding back on you? And you don’t like it?” Anne’s voice was a silken purr and for a moment Alicia thought Anne’s intensity, her sheer creepiness, might crash through her façade.

“Maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alicia fell back on a line every high schooler had used at least once. “But anyway, if you’re not interested…” Leaving the rest of the sentence hanging, Alicia turned and started to walk away. She had gone about four steps when Anne spoke.

“Come see me tonight. I have a place on the roof on the side near the river. I have a beautiful view of the stars. We can have some wine and talk.”

Anne didn’t wait for a response just walked past Alicia with her slick smile still in place. When she was gone, Alicia leaned against the wall and drew in a huge breath.

_I had been picturing a cave and a place where she could hang upside down. I know, silly me. Nothing happened that night. I didn’t let it. We just talked a bit and drank some wine. I made sure she drank first and tried to switch the glasses, but she caught me. She said something like “my tradecraft is better than that” to which I responded “I bet.” Then I faked being tired and left. _   
_The next night I didn’t wait for an invitation just went up there. She was there of course._

“You can come out, I know you’re there,” Anne called over her shoulder. Alicia had been hanging back by the door to the stairwell.

“I thought people like you always sat where you can see all of the room or the exits or whatever.” Alicia took the chair on the other side of the makeshift table. Anne had thrown a tablecloth over an air conditioning unit, put a couple candles on it, and called it a table.

“I don’t have to, I have eyes in the back of my head,” Anne said winking at Alicia. In front of her on the table were a huge pair of binoculars and what looked like a map. Leaning forward Alicia tried to get a better look at the map. In no hurry, Anne refolded the map and placed it and the binoculars in a plastic bin. Snapping the lid shut, she looked at Alicia then up at the sky. “The stars might be better tonight, don’t you think?”

Alicia sat back in her chair, crossed her legs and, almost as an afterthought, looked up at the sky. “You’re right, they might be.”

Anne chuckled; an odd sound low in her throat. Standing, she took the box and walked the few short steps to a cot. A cot that hadn’t been there the night before. A cot that Anne made sure Alicia noticed as she slid the box under it and made a show of fluffing the two pillows and straightening the blanket.

“Leave it to Texas to make a bed big enough for one large man or two slim girls.”

With difficulty Alicia kept herself calm and her body relaxed when Anne moved behind her. “No wine tonight?” Alicia asked.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight so I drank the rest.” Alicia didn’t call her out on this though the made-up cot was clearly for her benefit. Anne wasn’t above a little fib it seemed.

“Nice shirt.”

Alicia had left the first few buttons undone when she wore the plaid shirt Al had given her. When Anne put her hand first on Alicia’s neck then moved slowly along to her shoulder, Alicia couldn’t help drawing in a sharp breath. To cover for this, she said the first thing that came to her.

“Funny, I thought your hands would be cold.”

Anne laughed. “Cold hands, warm heart. Isn’t that what they say? I’m really quite sweet once you get to know me.” Anne’s hand had found Alicia’s bandage and Alicia felt the other woman hesitate. “I really am sorry about that,” Anne said softly and Alicia believed her. “I didn’t intend to hurt you.”

Alicia was going to say something to possibly move the conversation on to her mother, but Anne beat her to it.

“Have you done any physical therapy yet?” Anne took Alicia’s elbow raising her arm slowly. Her other hand she laid flat, fingers spread, on Alicia’s bare chest.

“I’m waiting for a callback on an appointment. The clinic is backed up.”

Anne only laughed softly at Alicia’s joke as she manoeuvred Alicia’s arm through a series of careful movements. “Any pain?”

“Just a bit, right there,” Alicia said when Anne stretched her arm out and back.

“Work on that,” Anne released Alicia abruptly. Moving in front of her she sat on the edge of the table and pushed one foot on to Alicia’s chair between her knees.

“Why are you here?” Anne leaned forward.

“Why are you? And why did you orchestrate that whole thing with Al getting kicked out?”

“It wasn’t about Al,” Anne paused and looked shrewdly at Alicia as if gauging how much to tell her. “It’s best that Isabel not be around here right now.”

“And Logan? What did you have against him?”

Anne blinked slowly and sighed. “They were collateral damage. So, time for you to answer my question,” Anne’s gaze on Alicia was intense.

“I think you know.” Alicia held Anne’s stare.

“You could just ask.”

“Not with this; you’re not just going to give that up. That wouldn’t be any fun for you, would it?”

“Quid pro quo...”

“What you’re best at.”

Anne was quiet for a moment and Alicia imagined the gears moving in Anne’s head. Click, clank, click. Alicia waited hoping Anne would lay it all out. She wasn’t disappointed.

“I like to talk, after.” Anne’s gaze shifted to the bed. “Pillow talk; that’s when all the truth comes out.”

Alicia held herself very still. This was, after all, exactly what she had expected. Secrets were power and as long as Anne held a secret over her, she would have all the power.

“That’s your price? Sex?”

“Too rich for you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Alicia stood, pushed between Anne’s knees. With Anne sitting, they were near the same height with maybe an inch or two advantage to Alicia. “You just don’t strike me as someone that needs to force that sort of thing on another.”

“I’m not,” Anne’s hands went to Alicia waist. “That’s the caveat.” Anne pulled Alicia’s shirt loose from her pants and, eyes still on Alicia’s face, moved one hand across her belly and down. “Willingly. You come to me willingly.”

Alicia closed the distance between them. When their lips met, Anne immediately tried to control the kiss but Alicia pushed her thumb in between Anne’s mouth and hers. With her other hand, she caught and held the hand Anne was trying to push down her jeans.

“That’s what I thought.” Alicia held Anne’s eyes with her own for a long moment. Anne had played her cards; there was nothing more for her to say. Alicia, though, still had a move or two.

“Not tonight though, I’m not in the mood.” Then she kissed Anne suggestively enough to let her know this was a strategic move and nothing to do with mood.

Alicia left Anne on the roof gazing at the stars.

_I know what you’re thinking, Al. I’m playing with fire. I know I am. Please remember it was my choice. And you should realize that since I’m writing this, I’m still here. She didn’t murder me or whatever. Before I go on with Anne, though, I have to tell you what happened next. The next day I was on gate duty…_

Alicia heard them before she saw them. Horses. Six or eight of them coming from the north. Alicia leaned on the heavy wire of the gate to get better look. She kept her rifle down, made sure Luciana behind her did the same. If the horse people wanted to cause trouble, they wouldn’t come galloping toward the factory wide open in the middle of the road. They couldn’t be that stupid.

At the head of the group was a small woman. She wore a broad brimmed cowboy hat, one side, her left, folded up Aussie style; a light blue longish jacket with a patch sewn on the left lapel and a belt cinched around her waist the belt holding, also on her left, a covered holster; and, completing the ensemble, loose pants tucked into tall boots.

She was clearly the leader. The others, four men and a woman rode behind her and when they reached the gate, one man dismounted to hold the bridle of the woman’s horse as she swung her leg over and stepped off her horse.

They were all armed though no one had raised or pointed a weapon. Armed to the teeth, might be a good way to describe it, Alicia thought. All of the riders except the woman and one man carried M4 type rifles. The man clearly preferred a shotgun as his chest was covered with shells in belts draped over his shoulders. As the small woman’s horse shifted behind her, Alicia took note of a long gun in a scabbard on the horse’s left side. She had seen The Untouchables enough times to know she was looking at the stock and rear receiver of a Thompson sub-machine gun.

_Cute._

Once off the horse, the woman approached the gate. Hands on her hips, she smiled at Alicia. “Good day to you, ma’am. My name’s Virginia, folks call me Ginny.” She smiled again a little wider a little toothier.

Alicia instantly disliked her.

The smile revealed small square teeth, and show them though she might, the smile dd not reach her bluish, wide spaced, eyes.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood. You can think of us,” Virginia gestured over her shoulder, “as the welcome wagon.”

Alicia made a show of looking first over one of Virginia’s shoulders, then the other. “What wagon?”

The dig hit home though Virginia tried hard not to show it. Annoyance flashed in her eyes for just a second. Giving her head a tiny shake, she tried the smile again this time with just her wide lips. Leaning forward toward Alicia on the other side of the gate she said, “The wagon is a metaphor, darlin’”

“Actually, it’s analogy,” Alicia tried a smile of her own, restrained herself from adding ‘darlin’.’ She didn’t know if the fictitious wagon was either a metaphor or analogy and if this were a test, she would go with neither. Sometimes an invisible wagon was just a wagon.

Virginia rocked back on her heels. She cast a look at her companions and, finding no help there, looked back at Alicia. “It’s Alicia, isn’t it? Do I have that right?”

Time spent around Anne had helped Alicia not show surprise, though the use of her name unnerved her. When Virginia made no move to continue without acknowledgement, Alicia nodded.

“My men and I, we travel all over these parts meeting and talking to people. Helping out whenever we can; making ourselves useful,” her jaw moved oddly as she put particular emphasis on that word. “We know everyone around here,” Virginia paused to give a broad gesture with her arms out and Alicia would bet that ‘meeting, talking’ and ‘helping’ would be better stated as ‘finding, talking’ and ‘controlling’. “We just haven’t met you folks yet. Why don’t you invite me in and we can have a chat? Just you and me, darlin’, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“What would make me more comfortable would be if you stopped calling me darlin’. Seein’ as this is just our first date and all.”

Behind her Alicia heard Luciana stifle a laugh.

Real anger appeared in Virginia’s eyes this time and Alicia tightened her grip on her rifle. As fast as the anger was there it was gone again and Virginia grinned. This time Alicia could almost believe she was amused. And she smiled with Virginia until the other woman spoke again.

“I guess that passes for funny back in Los Angeles where you’re from.”

Virginia said Angeles in that weird way some people did when it seemed like they couldn’t quite get the pronunciation right, whether for real or just affected: An-juh-leez instead of An-juh-liss.

“The cool kids call just L.A. though, don’t they?”

Now Alicia was annoyed. She could hear mumbling behind her and, when she shifted her feet, Virginia raised her arm.

Alicia froze. She hadn’t noticed how it happened, yet all of the riders behind Virginia had their weapons pointed at her. Not outright threatening but, if they wanted, perhaps given a signal from Virginia, they could fire and it would be a bloodbath.

Alicia looked from Virginia’s raised hand – two fingers up, two curled and her thumb out – to her face. The expression was impassive and just a bit smug. What Alicia said next would determine how this encounter ended. And for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with anything right then.

Virginia dropped her hand to the top of her head and pushed her hat tighter on her head. “I’m sorry,” she said though she hardly sounded sorry at all. “I caught you off guard, didn’t I? We’ve been listening to you talk. On the radios.”

Alicia flipped her rifle onto her back and pulled the sling over her chest. “What is it that you want, Ginny, cause I’m not finding you very welcoming. Now if you had come with an actual welcome wagon or maybe a taco truck or whatever it is that girls like you from these parts like to eat, then maybe I’d be a bit more open to your overtures.”

Virginia laughed and like every other smile, this one did not reach her eyes. “That’s what it takes, does it? Bringing the chuckwagon?”

Alicia held her arms out wide and when she dropped them to her sides, her right hand rested on her sharp weapon. “I’m just one of those girls, I guess.” She let the ambiguous nature of this statement float in the air between them before qualifying the statement. “The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

Virginia said nothing at first. Stepping back without turning away from Alicia she remounted her horse. “Well, I guess we best be on our way for now. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Maybe next time that reporter friend of yours with the boy’s name…” Virginia paused as if it took her a minute to come up with the name, “Al, will be here and she can interview me.” This time when she grinned Alicia knew the thought of being the center of Al’s attention probably did amuse her.

Virginia pulled her horse’s head around as if to leave and paused again. “Tell Morgan I said _‘Hi.’_” Kicking her horse’s flanks, she rode off south down the road with the others following.

Luciana stepped up beside Alicia and the two women watched the riders, followed by a plume of dust, disappear into the distance. “Well, that was interesting.”

“It sure was.” As Alicia turned away from the road back to the factory, she saw Anne standing in the dark doorway of the closest building, arms crossed on her chest. When she blinked, Anne was gone.

_I knew three things after that encounter. First, Ginny knows where I’m from, second, she knew you weren’t here, and third I really, really, really could go for a taco. Or six, or eight, with an ice cold Tecate. Oh, and Anne lurking in the background was just Anne being Anne. I’m not putting too much into that. Oh, and one more thing. I need to look up metaphor vs analogy cause I just faked that part. Anyway, I better get back to Anne because this is, well, the heavy stuff._

When Alicia stepped out on to the roof that evening, Anne had the table set and had food ready. Thinking the woman might have actually conjured tacos out of her ass, Alicia hurried forward. An unopened pouch of dehydrated chili and two bottles of Corona sat on the table along with three candles. Sitting down, Alicia reached for one of the bottles.

Ann sat to Alicia’s left and looked up at the sky. “I think the stars will be perfect tonight, don’t you?”

Alicia said nothing just held out her hand when Anne struggled to remove the bottle cap. Snapping the cap off by propping the edge of the cap on her chair arm and giving the top of the bottle quick blow with the heel of her hand, Alicia set the bottle aside and repeated the action with other bottle. Handing the second one to Anne she sat back.

“Where’d you steal the beer from?”

“Sarah, she’s become a bit of a beer snob.”

The beer was welcome and tasted good though Alicia didn’t say so..

Anne studied her over the neck of her bottle. “You handled… that woman very well today.”

Alicia noted the hesitation but didn’t comment.

“Think she will be back?” Anne asked.

“We both know she will.”

Anne smiled at that. “Yes, we do.”

Alicia said nothing just drank her beer her eyes on Anne. Finally, she spoke gesturing to the food pouch. “Not gonna heat that up?”

“I didn’t know if you would come here with an appetite or not. For food that is.” Anne smiled slow and challenging. “There’s always after.”

When Anne stood, Alicia did too only more slowly. Using her body Anne pushed Alicia back against the table. One hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck, Anne stared into Alicia’s eyes.

Alicia saw a flicker of doubt and something else she couldn’t identify before Anne began kissing her neck. “Willingly?” Anne whispered in Alicia’s ear.

“Yes,” Alicia responded her hand catching in Anne’s hair and pulling her head back so their eyes could meet. “And after this you will talk to me. If you don’t, I won’t rest until I’ve hunted you and killed you.”

“Slowly?” Anne’s eyes darkened with restrained passion. “You’ll kill me slowly? I do love slowly.”

She kissed Alicia then. Not hard and demanding like she had kissed Isabel, but far more tenderly than Alicia expected. Alicia responded, returning the kiss her hands at Anne’s waist and under her shirt at the back. Anne’s skin under her hands was far softer than she expected and not at all like any of her previous male lovers. Her scent too, when Alicia breathed against her hair, was subtle not harsh, inviting her to get closer, breathe deeper.

After a moment, Anne pulled back and Alicia saw again the doubt in her eyes. “You’re a beautiful girl, Alicia. Beautiful and powerful and some day you will make some girl very happy.” Anne kissed Alicia again and this time Alicia felt the urgency she knew had been held back. She didn’t resist and when Anne’s mouth was at her ear again, she heard the soft whisper, “I know it won’t be me.”

Anne kissed her way down Alicia’s throat to her collar bone as her hands worked to open Alicia’s jeans. With the clasp open and the zipper down, Anne dropped to her knees in front of Alicia. She looked up at the younger woman all doubt now gone from her eyes. When Anne’s teeth nibbled at the skin around her belly button and one of Anne’s hands brushed, palm flat, over her breast, Alicia felt her consciousness begin to separate.

The logical part of her mind knew she had made a mistake, knew the price she was paying was too high. She might never be the same girl again. The girl that wished she could do for Al what Anne was doing for her now; hands pushing her pants down and moving all over her thighs, belly and behind caressing with urgency and tenderness all in one. Demanding and arousing as her fingertips brushed through the fine hair of her pubic mound.

Alicia had thought of this, in weak moments dreamed of Al doing this, and when Anne’s tongue touched her tentatively and intimately, Alicia squeezed her eyes shut to the tears that came unbidden.

She didn’t know when one of those tears dropped from her eyelash to land on Anne’s cheek. She didn’t know when Anne pulled back and looked up at her. She did know that the other woman had stopped, frozen and on her knees, in front of her.

Opening her eyes, Alicia watched as Anne slowly raised a shaking hand to her cheek to wipe at a second of Alicia’s tears that had fallen there. Her eyes shifted up again and Alicia saw the last thing she expected: shock, horror maybe, then a profound sadness.

Anne collapsed on herself curling into a tight ball at Alicia’s feet. Alicia didn’t move at first just reached to pull up her pants and hold them at her waist. She watched as Anne’s shoulders began to tremble. When Anne began to sob softly Alicia felt confused. Just days ago, she had felt real rage against her; had wanted more than anything to get her hands around her neck and squeeze the life from her. Then, even more recently, she had felt annoyed at herself at Anne’s easy manipulations.

This, though, was something else entirely and Alicia wondered for just the barest moment if this was another of Anne’s games. She could walk away, she knew, say a scathing ‘whatever, bitch’ and just be gone. Alicia hesitated. Watching Anne tremble and hearing her cry she knew with a sudden clarity she wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t walk away and leave someone, even Anne, broken on the floor.

Kneeling next to Anne she laid a gentle hand on her back. Anne stilled immediately. Undeterred, Alicia began to move her hand in soft circles over Anne’s back. Leaning close to the other woman’s ear, she said softly yet firmly, “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Anne.”

The reply was so nearly inaudible that Alicia had to lean closer still.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong.” Anne’s voice was tight as if it was hard for her to speak through a throat constricted by emotion. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. It was wrong.”

Even though a tiny part of Alicia was clapping and jumping up and down in glee that Anne admitted to having a conscience, she said nothing just held her when Anne leaned into her. “Will you look at me?” Alicia asked once Anne’s sobs had been reduced to sniffles.

It took a moment. Then, with a deep breath, Anne sat up. She looked at Alicia for just a second then looked away. With a still shaky hand, Anne wiped at her eyes. Alicia stood and held out her hand. “C’mon,” Alicia looked at the cot then back at Anne.

For just a second, Anne’s bravado returned. Alicia quelled it by smiling and stating simply, “You need to lie down, I think.” Anne didn’t protest when Alicia led her to the bed. Anne sat and used the edge of the blanket to wipe her face. “There’s water…” she gestured to the end of the bed and a bin there.

Alicia got two bottles, one for each of them and pulled a chair up to the bed. Anne drank water and flopped back on the bed.

“I wasn’t always like I am now,” Anne began. “I was once somewhat like you; young, still innocent wanting to know everything all at once. But unlike you, I didn’t like my mother. I won’t say I hated her. I just got frustrated that I was always competing for her attention. Not with my father. He was hardly there and when he was, he didn’t care.”

Alicia waited. Let her go on.

“My mother had lots of lovers. The men I wasn’t interested in. The women intrigued me. There was this one… She was blonde, a lot younger than Mother. Her name was Jadis.”

Alicia felt her jaw drop.

“Yeah, really,” Anne continued. “I’m original. She was, quote unquote, visiting one time my father was away. I would listen outside the bedroom door to them having sex. Don’t judge. I was a fucked up seventeen-year-old.” Anne sat up, hugged her knees to her chest.

“I made it my mission to steal Jadis from Mother. I did what you did only with a lot less subtly. Let her know I was available. It wasn’t about anything other than power. I wanted what they had. I’d trade what I had for it. I just didn’t realize what I had to give should never have been taken.”

“I was going through the papers on my mother’s desk in her office when Jadis came in. I did that a lot. Took her stuff, moved it around just to fuck with her. She was taller than me, Jadis. She didn’t say anything.” Anne’s eyes grew distant and she looked away from Alicia. “She just pushed me up against the desk hands on my pants pulling them down.”

Anne took a drink of water her hand shaking again. “I don’t think I even found her that attractive she was, I dunno, too severe. When she got my pants down far enough, she dropped to her knees to go down on me. I thought I would be excited, really turned on, but all I could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Did you tell her to stop?” Alicia was beginning to think she didn’t want to hear the rest of this.

“No, I just froze up. And when…” Anne hesitated, scrubbed at her face. “When my tears fell on her cheek, she looked up at me and laughed. ‘Life isn’t that simple, Anne. You want something? You better know the price up front.’ She went back to what she was doing and I… I don’t even really remember. What I do remember was seeing my mother standing in the doorway looking at me with such disdain.” Anne sniffed again, wrinkled her nose. “When it was over, I couldn’t look at her. She took my chin and turned my head so I had to see her.” Anne swallowed hard, ground her teeth. “Looking right into me she said ‘now you’ll always be mine’. Then she kissed me, smiled, and left me there.”

“That’s not the end of it, is it?”

“No, it’s not. You would think I had learned my lesson, but what I learned was to be just like her. They recruited me in college. I was in a drama and arts program. After my training – I don’t think they had seen someone as good, well anyone like me – I reported to Langley. To my section head.”

“Her?” Alicia was thinking this story was more like a movie than anything real.

“Yes, Deputy Director. All I wanted to do was… her. Right there on her desk. She read me, of course. ‘You can’t Anne, there’s cameras. Why don’t you come see me tonight?’”

Anne sniffed, rubbed her nose. “That’s the end of my fucked-up story. I think you know the rest. Years later the Russians had the zombie virus, our government wanted it, me and my team stole it. Our scientists perfected it, then it got loose. People died, lots of people died. So, they decided to try to fix it and CRM was invoked, I got tapped to just go out and do what I was good at, and Jadis – she goes by Jana now – she’s one of the top people at CRM. She’s a survivor.”

“And my mother?”

Anne looked at Alicia her eyes raw and honest. “That’s almost as fucked up. Let’s get something to eat and I’ll tell you.”

_The part about my mother I’ll tell you in person. We can meet up. It just won’t be right away. I’m waiting for the taco truck._


	7. The Ghosts Watched Us Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re thinking of some really creative way to give me pleasure, aren’t you?”

Al dropped Alicia’s letter on the blanket and walked away. She found her way to the open doorway that overlooked the broken stairway and the lake. The rain had stopped and the clouds were fragmented here and there with moonlight struggling to shine through. Water dripped from the broken eaves above her and landed with gentle splatters on the lip of stone at her feet.

“She’s in love with you, and she can’t help it.” Isabel stood behind Al and laid a very soft hand on her lover’s hip.

“Isn’t that the way it always is?’ Al looked over her shoulder at Isabel her cheeks damp with tears.

“I know it is for me with you.” Isabel resisted the urge to grab Al and hug her tight. “I sure as shit couldn’t help falling for you.”

Al wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stepped back from the doorway. She leaned against the remains of the heavy door where it rested against the wall. Propping up one foot she put her hands in her pockets, dropped her head back with a sigh.

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Haven’t there been times when you would do almost anything to get the story; to get what you want?” Isabel asked gently.

“Not that,” Al hung her head.

“Because you know yourself now. You’ve done more living than her -- maybe some of it hard living.”

Al didn’t say anything just turned her head and looked out over the lake.

“I know Anne probably better than anyone,” Isabel said softly. “She always exacts a price; she’s always taken and never given. Knowing why she’s like that doesn’t excuse it.”

Neither woman said anything for a time until Isabel reached for Al’s hand. “Come back to bed. You need my arms around you.”

That night Al had a nightmare. Or what might have been a nightmare. In the morning she wasn’t so sure.

The mill was creepy enough at night with the sounds of moving water, rustling trees and shifting rocks. It was a sound that woke Al, at least she thought she was awake she couldn’t be sure. Like she often did in bad dreams, she stayed perfectly still too afraid to move in case the dream became real.

Isabel was curled against her back, warm and comforting, breathing softly against Al’s neck. She had convinced herself that there was no noise when she heard it again. A scuff of a boot against stone.

Al slowly opened her eyes. She could see only with her left eye as her right eye was blocked by her hand. Her head was turned in such a way that she could see along the level of the floor and out toward the open doorway where she and Isabel had stood just hours before.

A figure floated there several feet from the door the moonlight out over the lake giving only a definition to its outline. When Al blinked it was gone.

When Al woke again it was morning. The sun was shining and birds were singing; lots of birds, and far too loudly. Isabel lay beside her scratching her belly and yawning. Taking in Al’s unhappy look she rolled to the side and got up.

“I’ll put the coffee on. You look like you could use some.”

“And tell the damn birds to shut up!”

Al lay on her back staring up at the tarp. Sunlight shifted through the leaves reflected on the fabric and a vireo sang slow and monotonously. _‘Here I am, way up here. Look at me, here I am, way up here.’_

“Have you seen my notebook?”

“Don’t you keep it with you most of the time? In your pocket?” Al didn’t sit up. She was thinking about what calibre would be best for shooting noisy birds.

_‘Look at me, way up here. Here I am.’_

“I didn’t take it yesterday,” Al could hear Isabel moving around. “I left it on the mantle by the box.”

_12 gauge. Number 8 lead shot should do,_ Al thought. _Take all the little buggers out._

There was more rustling and finally Isabel sighed. “Here it is. On the floor with the box.”

Al sat up. Her eyes shifted to the open doorway and the stone landing beyond. The dream was coming back to her. Crossing their living space, Al stood next to Isabel.

Isabel was leafing through her notebook as if looking for something that wasn’t there. Al knelt to pick up the box. “Did you put this here? I thought I left it up there,” Al looked up at the mantle above her.

“I didn’t move it.”

Al opened the box slowly and looked through the contents. Everything was there except the big brass key.

**A little while later**

“I don’t believe in ghosts, Al.” Isabel stood behind Al watching as Al reached into the space behind the missing brick.

“I bet just a couple years ago you didn’t believe in flesh eating zombies either.” Al pulled her hand out. Hooked around her index finger was a broken locket on a silver chain. She held it up so they could both see. There were two faded pictures, one on either side. The small picture on the broken side had a X through the image. “This just gets more and more interesting.”

Al opened the box again and dropped the locket in it. After putting the box into the crumbling wall, Al replaced the brick pushing it in so that it was flush with the ones next to it. “Hopefully that will quiet the restless spirits.”

“I don’t think it was a ghost that took the old poem and the key,” Isabel was looking down at the dam and a walker moving along the far side. “I think we had a flesh and blood visitor.” Scuffing the ground with the toe of her boot, she uncovered another shell casing. “This would be a perfect place for target practice.”

Drawing the suppressed FN-P .45 ACP pistol she had taken to carrying since they had found it in Logan’s truck, Isabel sighted on the walker. “Fifty yards you think?”

“Give or take. Pushing it for a handgun,” Al answered.

A small smile played at the corner of Isabel’s mouth before she went very still except for her finger on the trigger. The shot caught the walker on the left cheek. Dead black blood, bone and tooth fragments sprayed out behind it. The shot would be enough to drop a human, but not a dead one. Isabel fired again and this time the walker went down falling on its back on the narrow dam.

“Could have come by boat from the old…” Isabel hesitated as she holstered the .45.

“The old house? How close is it?” Al was not happy to hear this.

Isabel pointed along the same side of the lake as the dam and down to the far end. “It’s around that little point there. That’s a narrow channel, then the lake opens up again into what we thought was just a pond.” With her toe she scuffed at the grass again. “I thought I saw smoke in that direction the other night, just at sundown.” When Al stood staring at her, arms crossed over her chest, Isabel apologized. “I didn’t want to say anything and ruin the mood… the thing we had going here.”

“Well, I ain’t afraid of no ghosts. Not live, dead or anything in between.” Al started past Isabel, paused. “Let’s start by covering that hole in the floor and fixing that door. Then maybe I’ll sleep better.”

The hole in the floor where the stairs once were that connected the first and second floors was easily covered with a couple sheets of plywood and two heavy rocks. The old door took a bit more work. Isabel was not going to be happy until she got it so they could open it in the day and let in a breeze from the lake, and close it securely at night.

Once finished that, Al was ready for a break and maybe something more. When Isabel bent to pick up her tools, Al moved in behind her grinding her groin into Isabel’s butt. “You really gotta work? Now?”

Isabel straightened and turned. Putting her arms around Al’s neck a hammer still in her hand, she gave Al a quick kiss. “Right now? You want to play? With the ghosts watching?”

“Don’t care.” Al’s hands pulled at Isabel’s shirt while she nuzzled her neck.

“How about this,” Isabel kissed Al lightly on the forehead, “you go play with your new guitar and I’ll finish up my crow’s nest.”

Al gave in reluctantly and went to find the Martin guitar.

While Al restrung the guitar with new strings she found in the case, Isabel finished the platform she had been building high up above the level of the third floor. She was standing up there, her head level with the chimney top gazing through binoculars, when Al finished the tuning.

Al sat back on their round stone bed covered now with a two-inch gym mat, and held the guitar on her thigh. Her left hand caressed the smooth neck, her fingers finding the strings as she began a simple twelve bar blues progression. She could see Isabel’s lower body and could see when the other woman turned to look down at her.

_Got your attention, do I? Well, then it’s time to rock!_

Al’s fingers moved down the neck of the guitar and formed the first barre chord. It had sounded better on her old electric, but as Al began to belt out _I Ain’t the Same_ by Alabama Shakes all her passion for music came rushing back.

The last chord was still ringing in old mill when Al felt her other passion stir even stronger somewhere below her gut. With blues still on her mind she moved on to the old standard_ Come On In My Kitchen_. The first song had gotten Isabel’s toes tapping; this one put a wiggle in her hips. But still she stayed up there in her eyrie.

_OK, girl. That’s the way it’s gonna be is it? Then it’s time for the big guns…_

Al tapped out the beat with her knuckles on the smooth wood, then moved into a song written and sung by a woman and for a woman. It was usually the last song she played when she played alone acoustically, and then only when the mood was right; like when a girl had caught her attention. Thinking back to Isabel’s college fantasy, she pictured Isabel sitting in the center of the audience in her hot motorcycle jacket. Isabel, the same woman who was currently being stubborn way up there above her.

Dragging her fingers along the strings with each chord, Al began to sing. When she got to the line _‘whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, I’ll give it to you slowly.’_ There was a solid thump as Isabel jumped down from the high platform to the old, but still formidable, wood of the third floor.

Isabel crouched and their eyes met.

_…’your mouth waters, stretched out on my bed...’_

Al was into the chorus when Isabel started down the ladder to the second floor.

_…’I’ll hold you up and drive you all night…’_

Isabel jumped the last few feet and turned to Al her look nothing short of smoldering and Al nearly chocked on the words. She did miss a chord and a little grin slipped across Isabel’s lips.

_…’in the kitchen, in the shower…’_

Isabel pulled her T-shirt off as she moved slowly toward Al. There was sweat in the hollow between her collar bones, low on her groin at the waist line of the pants Isabel was now unzipping.

_‘…I know how you like it when I tease you for hours…’_

Isabel bent quickly to unlace her boots and when she stood up, Al saw her smile sweet and playful. Al went into the chorus for the second time as Isabel kicked both pants and boots aside and strode forward to stand just out of reach in front of Al. And the commando wore no underwear.

Isabel let Al finish the chorus before she leaned forward and closed her hand over the neck of the guitar silencing it. Carefully, giving the instrument the respect it deserved, she took the vintage Martin from Al’s hands and placed it back in its case.

Moving back in front of Al, she stood close enough that Al’s chin touched her pubic mound. Then, cupping Al’s cheek, she said, “I’ll think I’ll drive now.”

Al huffed out a breath then breathed in hard when Isabel, hand in the hair at the back of Al’s neck, pushed her face into her groin. A face full of Isabel’s scent caused a harsh ripple from the bottom of Al’s sternum and right, straight, down to where it exploded between her legs.

Leaning forward over Al’s back, Isabel seized the tail of Al’s shirt and pulled it up and over her head. Arms still caught in the shirt, Al was powerless against Isabel’s kiss when their lips met. Not that she minded…

Isabel broke the kiss her teeth against Al’s chin and then her neck as she pushed Al back onto their bed her body following. Separating herself just enough, Isabel tore the shirt off Al’s arms and tossed it aside. Straddling Al, she held her down with a palm in the middle of her bare chest, swatting away Al’s eager hands when they reached between her legs.

Moving lower, she began to work at the button and zipper of Al’s pants. Once undone enough, she pulled hard at the pants on first one hip then the other as Al obliged by turning her body. When Al’s pants and underwear were at her ankles, Isabel struggled to pull her boots off. Catching first one heel on the edge of the bed then the other, Al loosened her boots so that, with one swipe, Isabel cast aside Al’s pants and boots.

Laying her body out along the length of the woman below her, Isabel whispered in Al’s ear. “Next time I tell you to wear your boots tighter, don’t listen.”

“Noted,” Al’s hands moved down Isabel’s back until, at their full extension, she grabbed a handful of each of Isabel’s firm buttocks. “Now, what were you doing?”

“This, I think.” Shifting just enough, Isabel pushed her right hand down Al’s belly and between her legs. Two fingers slipped along an already slick crevice to slide down and then inside. “That about right?”

“Oh, yes,” Al closed her eyes sighing deeply as Isabel’s thumb found her clitoris. “You’re a very good driver.”

“I’m a better pilot.” Isabel’s hand moved firmly and steadily.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Isabel stopped any further conversation with her mouth on Al’s mouth. When Al’s fingers began to clutch at, then dig into her sides, Isabel shifted lower, her teeth at hollow of Al’s throat.

Isabel increased her pace and, after a moment, Al gasped, her back arching and her head dropping back. Isabel looked into her lover’s face watching as a grimace of intense pleasure slipped into smile of mixed satisfaction and lust, then to a soft, slow contentment.

“Good flight?” she whispered to Al.

“Loved the landing.” Al drew big breaths of air in and out of her lungs.

“I can take you up again,” Isabel started to shift her body over Al, but Al was quicker. She didn’t flip Isabel over as Isabel might have expected, though. Instead, she slipped out from beneath her lover and onto Isabel’s back.

Her mouth at Isabel’s neck, Al pushed aside her hair and kissed and nibbled the tender skin she found there. Al moved her nibbling onto Isabel’s back then slowly raised her body. Her legs straddled Isabel’s hips with her warm, damp center pressed against Isabel’s butt. Feeling a tingle there, Al moved back and forth while her hands caressed up and down Isabel’s smooth back.

There was a tattoo at the base of Isabel’s spine. Al had admired it before, just never quite this closely and in the full light of afternoon. Leaning forward, Al moved over Isabel, up and back with only her nipples touching the skin of Isabel’s back. Settling in again, lower, with her nose next to an image of spread angel’s wings, Al read the words in small script, one line above and one below.

_Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,_   
_And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;_

_Nice,_ Al thought.

Sitting up, Al began running her hands up Isabel’s back and down her tender sides. Isabel’s skin was soft and warm; a softness Al could never get enough of. When Al completed each pass with her hands, she moved deeper and closer between her legs. Each time she got closer, Isabel grunted with impatience. Finally, her left hand high on Isabel’s back holding her still, Al slowly eased her right hand down, and two fingers inside a very wet Isabel.

Leaning over Isabel she continued to move her hand in long, deep strokes. “Ready for takeoff Major Murray?”

“The Major would prefer not to fly inverted,” Isabel said her voice tight.

“Is that so?” Al didn’t move just kept up the stroking of her hand.

“Co-pilot would like to have eyes on the pilot,” Isabel said impatiently. “When we come for a landing.”

Al laughed lightly at Isabel’s phrasing, and moved her left hand so Isabel could shift onto her back. As Isabel turned, Al’s right hand was displaced but only for a second. Driving her fingers back into her partner, Al leaned over and caught one of Isabel’s nipples in her in her mouth. As she began to suckle, Isabel’s breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps.

“Almost out of fuel, need to land soon,” Isabel panted.

Al released Isabel’s nipple and moved down to find, then flick her tongue over, Isabel’s clitoris. After just a moment of stimulation, Isabel’s hips bucked and her internal muscles clamped down on Al’s fingers. Al rode with her. Moving up again, Al settled at Isabel’s throat and the pounding pulse point there.

“Powering back the throttle,” Isabel said softly.

Isabel’s body relaxed and Al removed her hand.

“Hmmm… Flying an L3 isn’t really that hard.” Al stared down into Isabel’s face.

Isabel just laughed and pulled Al down to her chest in a tight embrace.

**Sometime later**

Al woke up slowly. This time there were no ghosts just Isabel, one warm bare leg under Al’s chin, sitting up and writing with a pencil stub in her notebook. She had pulled an old flannel shirt on though, as a concession to the warm night, it was unbuttoned. Al looked up past Isabel to the open sky above them and watched as a shooting star streaked from left to right.

Feeling Al move against her thigh, Isabel looked down. “Hey, sleepy head. Enjoy your nap? Sorry I tired you out.”

“I’m not.” Sitting up Al pushed Isabel’s notebook down and leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was slow and soft; undemanding. A simple statement of contentment. “What are you writing?” Al tried to turn Isabel’s wrist so she could see the neatly printed words.

“It’s a poem about ghosts and sex. You wouldn’t like it,” Isabel said and smiled. Pulling the notebook away from Al, she touched the end of Al’s nose. “It’s not done yet, anyway.”

Isabel wrote a couple of lines while Al watched, erased something and finally closed the notebook giving Al her full attention. There was something she needed to ask. “That was the first time you played since…?” she said looking at Al.

“Yeah,” Al thought for a moment. “It never went away though. There were always times when I would sing in the car, you know, windows down, music up loud, me by myself. Sometimes I’d watch music videos; watch the guitarist play and my hands would make the chords. I just never took that last step and picked up my guitar to play for someone. It seemed too hard.”

Rolling onto her back, Al grinned. “Oh, and Karaoke.”

“Really? Karaoke?” Isabel lay on her side, caught Al’s hand and held it. “Was alcohol involved?”

“Copious amounts. I only did that once or twice when I was lonely and wanted someone to sleep with.”

“I think there’s an app or six for that.”

“You’d know!” Al released Isabel’s hand to tickle her down low along her side.

“Did it work? Did you get the girl?” Isabel pushed AL’s hand away and, in a quick move, straddled her hands on either side of Al’s head.

“Of course! I always get the girl!”

“Me too. Sometimes she’s worth keeping.”

Isabel lowered herself slowly over Al until their lips met. Al was getting into the kiss and thinking maybe she might be feeling like a bit more play time when she felt Isabel pause. Looking up into Isabel’s face, Al saw her eyes were distant and her brows were pulled together in concentration.

“I like this look,” Al smiled at Isabel. “You’re thinking of some really creative way to give me pleasure, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Isabel laughed. Rolling off Al she reached for her notebook. “This time, though, I think I came up with the next line. Why don’t you play me a love song while I write?”

Putting on a T-shirt and sweatpants, Al sat on the edge of their stone bed at Isabel’s feet. Re tuning the high E, she tried to think of what to play. She wanted something Isabel had not heard either from her voice or by implication. Something that would be romantic, but not outright sexy.

Smiling it came to her. One of her favourite songs. A ballad in Spanish. As Al played and sang, she realized Isabel was only catching a word here and there. When she finished, Isabel was smiling.

“That could’ve been your grandmother’s taco recipe or a real estate listing. It still made me want to kiss you again.”

Al blushed. Adjusting a capo down a few frets, Al smoothed her hair back from her forehead and began to play again.

When Al hit the chorus, Isabel closed her eyes.

_‘…I never could imagine how my life would change, the day you came. And how all my fears and worries would just wash away. I never saw it coming, then one day all of a sudden, there was you, you, you, you. I don’t have to live without you anymore…’_

A single tear slipped down her cheek when Isabel opened her eyes. Her fingers still on the guitar, her voice still singing the song, Al matched Isabel’s tear with one of her own.

Al held the last chord her eyes on Isabel. When Isabel noticed her stare, she looked away her cheeks reddening. Al set the guitar aside moving higher up the bed to sit next to Isabel. “What’s wrong?” Al wiped the tear on Isabel’s cheek as a fresh one left her eye.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Isabel touched Al’s cheek, tried to smile and failed.

“I’m good,” Al smiled. “I have everything I could ever want right here, right now.”

Isabel tried to look away from Al. Al caught and held her chin.

“I just…” Isabel began, faltered. Al waited giving her time. Isabel closed her eyes again. “I can’t…it’s hard for me to reconcile us with the awful world out there.” Opening her eyes, Isabel looked at Al. “We shouldn’t be happy. It doesn’t seem right.”

Al sat back. “Why not?”

Isabel just shook her head unable to answer.

“The world sucks, Isabel. That’s a given. We don’t have to go down with it. We can choose to be better and better starts with each of us.”

“We could die tomorrow and it would all just be a waste.”

“Or we could live another day, or twenty, or two thousand. All we have is time. And all we have to do is to decide what to do with the time that is given us. I decided to be with you, love you, as long as I can.”

Isabel smiled then. “Me too, as long as I can.” Setting aside her notebook, Isabel held out her arms to Al and they lay back, Al’s head on Isabel’s chest. “I promise to. At least as long as you keep quoting Gandalf to me.”

**Later**

Al slipped out of bed and, with a small flashlight found her camera in her camera bag. It already had a new fresh tape loaded, so she adjusted the settings and very quietly placed the camera facing into their living area where it’s lens could take in the fireplace and door on the lake side. She hoped if there was anymore activity, paranormal or otherwise, the camera would record it.

Over the next couple days, Al checked the tape in the mornings and after times they were both away in other areas of the mill and its grounds. Nothing was recorded. In fact, the days and nights were uneventful until the morning of the third day after they had collected and read Alicia’s letter.  
Al rose early. The vireo was back and had brought friends. Lots of friends of many species. And they had a lot to talk about.

Walking to her camera to shut it off, Al looked out over the spillway and clearing at the back of the mill. She froze with her hand reaching to the camera.

“Isabel,” Al said softly but urgently. “Wake up please.”

In about twenty seconds Isabel was at her side and they both looked out at the figure on the other side of the spillway, head on a backpack and apparently sleeping. Al turned her camera toward the person and zoomed in. Isabel dropped to one knee behind the big sniper rifle she had strategically placed on the broken wall of the mill, and sighted through the scope.

“Anne,” they said at the same time.

As if sensing their scrutiny, Anne sat up, yawned and gave Al and Isabel a cheerful wave.

“How and why is she…?”

Isabel didn’t let Al complete the question.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”


	8. Taco Truck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nah, I’m kinda enjoying this, just me and you. This is what? Our third date? About time we got serious, isn’t it, Ginny?”

**Two days earlier**

Alicia wasn’t on gate duty when Virginia returned. She was in the common room talking to Strand when a ripple of excitement went through the factory. Charlie came in with a big smile on her face, paused and announced: “You’re never going to believe this!”

When Alicia and Strand, and most everyone else, got outside, Virginia was already riding through the open gate with the smug ‘see what I can do’ look on her face. Behind her rode several of her people on horses and behind them…

Alicia began to laugh. So did Strand beside her and Daniel beside him. Virginia dismounted in front of Alicia, once again waiting until one of her men held her horse for her. “I was going to bring you some nice Texas BBQ, but seeing as some of you are from California,” Virginia drew out the syllables of the state name and moved her jaw in that weird way that was really beginning to irritate Alicia. “I thought tacos might be better.” Virginia looked from Alicia to the two men beside her; smiled. “You all do like tacos?”

Strand laughed again; tilted his head back and let loose. For a moment Virginia looked disconcerted. Then, gracing them with a short smile, she turned away. Her next few minutes were taken up with directing where to place the horse drawn taco truck and how to arrange the couple of picnic tables she ordered carried from over by the factory’s main door. Alicia stood back watching and thinking it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if Virginia doffed her hat and pulled out a Mariachi band.

She was wondering how Virginia and her gang had gotten through the gate when Luciana came up beside her. “Morgan let them in,” Luciana leaned close to Alicia’s ear.

“Figures,” Alicia looked past the crowd toward the gate, noticed it was still partly ajar. “Can you go close the gate, Lucy? Maybe take a look around, see if there’s any more of them lurking out there?”

After Luciana strode off toward the gate, Alicia looked around assessing. Virginia had arrived with only a slightly bigger force than the last time if she counted the three people working inside the taco truck. Unlike the four riders with Virginia, the taco truck staff were unarmed and older. Two of Virginia’s men stood back with their horses, another was unclipping the two horses harnessed to the taco truck, and the other seemed to be following Virginia as she mingled with Alicia’s group as if he was a bodyguard.

After a few minutes, Virginia, with Morgan beside her, approached Alicia. “Why don’t you go to the head of the line, Alicia?” Virginia gestured to the taco truck and the kids milling around it. “Leader eats first. Perks of the job, I say.”

Alicia didn’t look at Morgan, just leaned closer to Virginia. “I prefer to let my minions eat before me. That way, if there’s poison, they die first.”

A look of confusion crossed Virginia’s features then, matching Alicia’s conspiratorial tone, she said. “It seems we have different leadership styles.” Alicia watched her go to the taco truck and, patting a kid on the head here, and smiling at a kid there, maneuver herself to near the front of the line.

“I’ve never seen the kids look so happy,” Morgan was smiling. “She said you invited her back if she brought food. I thought you told me you were wary of her and her people?”

Alicia started to say she hadn’t invited Virginia back, then stopped. It was possible that the conversation she had with Virginia could be interpreted as an invitation. Interpreted or manipulated. “I am wary of her, Morgan,” Alicia said. “I’m very wary of her since I don’t know what her intentions are.”

“She’s says she’s here to help…”

“Like we are?” Alicia was instantly annoyed. “Just because she says she is doesn’t mean she is.”

“Can’t you just be happy for once? Look at the kids. They’re having a great time.”

And it was true they were, along with most of the adults now that Virginia was handing out bottles of beer. The only one that seemed unhappy was Sarah who stood holding a box of her own beer that everyone was passing up for Virginia’s.

“Things are getting better, Alicia.” Morgan was still talking. “We’ve made new friends with Ginny. I even heard you and Jadis are getting along really well…”

Alicia looked at Morgan, blinked slowly. What had happened on the roof between her and Anne the other night seemed to her to be so far beyond his simple understanding that it might as well have come from outer space.

“Speaking of Jadis… I wonder…” Morgan looked away scanning the crowd for the tall woman.

Alicia turned on her heel and stalked away. How Morgan had come to wear such blinders around women she thought she would never understand. She ended up standing next to Daniel. “They’re very good,” Daniel held out a paper plate to Alicia. It contained two tacos in soft tortillas. And they smelled good, really good.

Alicia ate the two Daniel had given her so he went back for more. The serving window was far less crowded now so, as Alicia watched, Daniel spent a few minutes talking to the woman inside. The other two, an older man and a somewhat younger man were outside the truck uncasing guitars. Alicia rolled her eyes. Daniel returned with more food and Alicia followed him to a picnic table away from the guitarists.

Daniel placed a small cup of mixed beef and chicken on the table and released Skidmark from his carrier cage. The large orange feline dug into the meat with gusto. “He’s only fussy about my cooking,” Daniel said stroking the cat.

Alicia and Daniel ate in silence for a while both watching the crowd. Wiping his fingers on his pants, Daniel moved closer to Alicia. “They’re from Juárez,” Daniel said and looked back at the taco truck. “They met Virginia last year. ‘She rescued us’, Rosa said,” Daniel was looking at the older woman in the truck. “Only she said it in the same way an illegal might say they were rescued by the border patrol.”

As the two men with guitars began to play _La Bamba_, Alicia whispered to Daniel. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Always,” Daniel smiled.

Virginia was clapping her hands and bouncing on her feet to the music. Whenever someone looked at her, she smiled her big smile. When they looked away, her smile vanished. Alicia watched as her gaze moved around the people from the factory pausing now and then as if accessing.

As if feeling Alicia’s eyes on her, Virginia began to make her way over to them. When she reached the table, she smiled noticing the empty plate in Alicia’s hands. “So good, weren’t they?” Alicia couldn’t disagree with that so she merely nodded. “One of my settlements raises livestock. Beef cattle, pigs, chickens, turkeys…”

Alicia had to resist adding E-I-E-I-O.

“How many of these settlements do you have?” Daniel asked conversationally.

Virginia was instantly shrewd. “Oh, a couple,” she looked back to the taco truck. “These folks, such great cooks and musicians! Everyone needs to be useful, is what I say.” Virginia leaned closer to Daniel and grinned. Daniel looked at her; didn’t react.

Looking put out from Daniel’s lack of acknowledgement of her words of wisdom, Virginia looked past him her eyes settling on Skidmark who sat washing his face.

“Well, hello kitty,” Virginia reached out as if to touch the cat. Skidmark looked at her and instantly his tail puffed out twice its normal size and his ears flattened to his head. Backing up, he hissed.

Virginia stepped back anger in her eyes. “What good is a mean cat?”

Daniel sniffed. “That cat is a survivor! He’s been through more in his time living on his own then most people have. He survived when most people didn’t.”

Something in Virginia’s eyes changed. “Only the fit survive. That’s how it should be. Cull the herd,” Virginia worked her jaw and one side of her mouth turned down. “That’s the only way. The way of the future. The past is gone and the weak ones with it. We will own the future!” Flashing a smile that did nothing to warm the chill in her eyes, Virginia walked away.

“That cat is also a damn good judge of character,” Daniel stroked his feline friend’s ears.

**A bit later**

Alicia stood with Sarah drinking beer. Sarah’s beer. It was later in the afternoon and most of the activity had died down. The adults who remained were sitting in small groups talking. The mood still seemed upbeat though Alicia wasn’t feeling it.

Annie, Max, Dylan and some of the other kids were playing a game of hide and seek. One of the younger kids turned his back and began counting loudly. The kids scattered. Alicia watched Annie hide behind a barrel near the taco truck.

Sitting at a nearby picnic table, Virginia and Morgan paid her no attention. Morgan was smiling at Virginia. It seemed like a nice conversation. Standing up, Virginia reached down and patted Morgan’s hand. “We’ll just work on that list of supplies for you,” Virginia said loud enough for Alicia to hear. With two of her men Virginia walked around back of the taco truck.

Alicia was curious so she gathered a couple of empty beer bottles and walked with them over to the barrel where there was an empty case. Shifting to the far side of the barrel, Alicia was able to see behind the taco truck. Virginia and her men were having an intense conversation. At least it was intense on Virginia’s part though Alicia couldn’t hear the words.

Just as Alicia moved to back out of sight, she noticed Annie under the taco truck. Alicia hadn’t seen her move from the barrel and had, in fact forgotten about her. Annie was close to Virginia but well out of sight. As Alicia watched, Annie’s hand extended slowly from under the truck and placed something next to Virginia’s boot.

_Interesting_, Alicia thought rejoining Sarah.

Sarah handed her another beer; opened another for herself. “I’ve been thinking,” Sarah pointed at the taco truck with her bottle, index finger extended. “A taco truck is like a metaphor for life. Sometimes you get what you want and it’s good; sometimes you get what you think you want, and it’s not good at all and gives you wicked gas, and sometimes the damn truck drives away just as you get there.”

“Deep,” Alicia said seriously.

“And sometimes a taco truck is just a taco truck,” Daniel said as he walked up next to Alicia.

“Which would be fine if this were a spring day on the Santa Monica pier.” Strand stood next to Daniel.

“And sometimes Santa Claus is actually the Grinch just not so green and dressed in a cute little cowboy hat,” Sarah said as she drained the rest of her beer and reached for another in the case Wendell carried on his lap as he rolled up.

“Batch number 12. The good stuff.” Wendell handed around bottles.

Alicia watched as Virginia came walking out from behind the taco truck and headed toward Morgan her men going the other way toward their horses. After a minute, Annie squirmed out from under the truck.

“1-2-3 on Annie by the taco truck!!” a young voice yelled from behind Alicia. Annie raised her hand in acknowledgement. Lowering them she slipped something into her pocket.

Morgan was shaking hands with Virginia who had her widest, most ingratiating smile on her face.

“He better not be making some sort of deal without talking to the rest of us,” Sarah adjusted her dirty ball cap and looked annoyed.

“A deal with the devil herself, taco truck or no taco truck.” Daniel shifted his feet impatiently.

“Morgan and his questionable decisions are the least of our worries right now. There’s a change in leadership blowing in the wind.” This from Strand.

“Can’t blow me fast enough!” Sarah started. “Kicking out Al and her honey – bad ass sniper or not – was plain mean.”

With Virginia supervising, her men re-hitched the horses to the taco truck and Alicia watched as it made its way slowly to the gate. Virginia followed holding the bridle to her horse. When she got close to the group of hide and seek kids, she waved and smiled. Alicia expected her to start throwing candies.

“She’s gonna break her face she keeps on smiling like that!” Wendell turned his chair back toward the factory. “Don’t you say it Sarah! Don’t you say it!”

After the gate closed behind Virginia, Sarah raised her middle finger.

“Y’all come back now, ya hear!”

Turning away she followed Wendell.

“How soon do you think?” Alicia looked at Strand and Daniel.

“This was a recon mission,” Daniel said. “Her next move is to make a plan.”

Alicia nodded and looked at Strand.

“She doesn’t like you,” Strand grinned. “She’s not going to wait long to make her move and put you in your place. You get under her skin; she doesn’t like that, not at all.”

“She’s charmed Morgan. That’s going to cause us trouble if some people side with him,” Alicia crossed her arms over her chest as anxiety started to worry at her. Alicia looked at Daniel. If there was anyone she wanted on her side right now it was him. “What will her plan be?”

“Simple. Overwhelming force. She knows our numbers now and we still don’t know hers. I don’t think she’ll come in guns blazing, not at first.”

“No, first she’ll try persuasion,” Strand added.

“I think she already tried that,” Alicia bit her lip. “What do we even have that she could want?”

“Not supplies or anything valuable,” Daniel shrugged.

“That leaves people, us.” Strand said softly. After a moment he continued. “I’ve seen a few people like her in my time. She’s a control freak; a micro manager. Think back to how she arranged the taco truck just so. The tables here, the beer over here. Her people don’t sneeze without her telling them how hard.”

“It’s all about her. Everything. Always,” Alicia rubbed her chin real worry starting to invade her calm.

“She wants people that are useful…” Daniel started.

“And she needs to get them on her side and under her control.” Strand completed.

“All the business about only the fit surviving.” Daniel took a minute to give Strand a recap of what Ginny had said to him and Alicia.

“Fit as determined by her.” Alicia thought of Virginia hiding behind the taco truck making a list. “That part is done, she did it today.”

“So, when she comes back it will be with an ultimatum,” Strand smiled but it wasn’t a nice smile.

“It will be her way or the highway.” Alicia felt herself grow cold. “And when I tell her to go fuck herself…”

Daniel looked grim. “That’s when the shooting starts.”

“And the first one she’s going to take out is…” Strand continued.

“Me,” Alicia finished.

They talked for several more hours discreetly drawing in others they could trust including Luciana, June, John, Sarah, Wendell and even Charlie. Excluding Morgan didn’t go over well with everyone and Alicia agreed that he should be told what the majority had decided. She felt it would still be a hard sell without proof.

In the morning she was given that proof from the one person whose absence the day before had caused her the most concern.

**The next morning**

Alicia barely slept. When she did finally fall asleep her dreams had been unsettling. She lay on her side facing the wall on her cot in her small room trying to make sense of the images that floated through her mind only to pop like balloons when she reached for them. Her mother’s presence wove through all the disjointed snippets connecting them but adding no clarification.

She lay still for a while knowing she should get up – it was daylight after all – though a part of her wished she could go back to sleep and Morgan and Virginia would just go away taking all her current problems with them. Eventually another presence began to tickle at her consciousness and she turned slowly, knife in hand.

“Good morning sweetheart!” Anne said cheerfully. “I had been hoping our first morning together would have been under better circumstances. You’ll excuse me if I don’t offer you breakfast in bed.”

She was sitting in the chair at the desk that, along with a packing crate, constituted the furnishings of Alicia’s sleeping quarters.

“Cut the crap, Anne. Where the fuck have you been?” Alicia ran her hands through her hair and re-knotted her ponytail.

“I’ve been making myself useful – to you not to Virginia...” Anne might’ve continued except Alicia cut her off.

“Useful? Really? I figured you were off…” she wanted to use a vulgar word, settled on, “sleeping with Morgan.”

“Not my type.” Anne turned a small device over and over in her hand. “I like leaders, real leaders.”

Alicia snatched a water bottle off the desk, drank half of it. “Can we just for once have a conversation without all the added sexual innuendo?”

“I live on innuendo,” Anne frowned in mock hurt. “Especially of the sexual kind.”

Alicia pointed at the door saying nothing.

“Yes, there’s the door,” Anne looked at Alicia and then the door making no move to leave.

“You. Walk through it. Don’t come back.”

“Grumpy face,” Anne took something from her pocket and tossed it to Alicia. “Caffeine pills. Take two or three,” her voice was now serious, “and sit down. We don’t have much time.”

Placing the device – a small digital recorder -- on the desk she hit play.

There was a scuffling sound and then Virginia’s voice began talking. After a minute, Alicia took one of he pills. After five minutes she took two more.

**A little while later**

It took some time to round everyone up. Even then they decided to hold back Wendell at the gate with a walkie, John on the roof with a rifle and walkie, and Charlie keeping an eye on Morgan.

The last to arrive was Grace. As Strand closed the door behind her, she looked around nervously. “Welcome to our room of requirement. Grace, this isn’t what you think,” Strand started then corrected himself. “Well actually it is. Morgan is no longer leading this group. Alicia is. And we, all of us including Morgan though he is unable to see it clearly, have a problem.” He stepped back and gestured to Anne.

“My name isn’t Jadis it’s Anne. I’m going to take all of you into my confidence even though I think that’s not necessarily the best way to handle this…”

“Anne! Stop with the dramatics and get to it!” Alicia said curtly.

“Once upon a time I had a different job. I have retained that skillset and even some of my toys.”

Anne sketched a short bow at Alicia and stepped forward placing her digital recorder on the chair in the middle of the room. With a flip of her wrist she pushed play.

_“…everything I need now. You two agree? Good. Let’s start at the top. Morgan will be no problem. I have him convinced we are joining forces to keep on doing good works. What happens after, we’ll deal with after. Next is Alicia. She’s the real leadership of this rag-tag bunch.”_

_One of the men made a noise as if her disagreed._

_“I know what I’m doing, Pete. Haven’t I always been right? I know people, I’ve studied people. Before all this I was an expert about these things. I shouldn’t have to tell you this again, should I? That’s right. Good. Now, Alicia. She’s my hold back. After everyone else is loaded up and taken away, I’ll deal with her myself._

_Next is Victor. He’s a shifty sort but with enough incentive he’ll switch teams. Then there’s the barber, Daniel. A lot of us haven’t had a decent haircut in a while so he’s in. Luciana, the Mexican, she can handle herself well so she’s a yes. She’ll make a good solider. Grace the engineer and June the nurse are both extremely useful.”_

_“I heard Grace was sick.”_

_“We have a doctor! He’ll deal with it! June’s cowboy boyfriend is so soft-hearted he’ll do whatever she wants him to. Sarah the brewer and her brother the cripple…”_

“Say what bitch?!”

_…hard nuts to crack. I’m on the fence about those two…”_

“Hard nuts? I’ll show her hard nuts…”

“Quiet, Sarah!” Alicia’s voice held authority enough that Sarah backed down.

_“… that’s the leadership. The ones we have to be concerned with. The rest are sheep. They’ll go along to get along.”_

_“And the kids?”_

_“The kids are the least of my concern but the best of the bunch because once I have them, I can shape them anyway I want to.”_

While Virginia was saying this, Anne went to the door and let Annie into the room. The only one not surprised at her presence was Alicia.

_“The last one is Althea, the reporter girl, she’s still missing and that’s really too bad cause I wanted my interview. And that thing she drives, whatever it is. I really wanted that.”_

One of the men snickered and there was a shuffling sound as the tape ended.

Before everyone could talk at once, Anne moved to the middle of the room. “We have Mini Me to thank for planting the bug that got us our evidence. I’m just her handler.”

Annie smiled, her cheeks red, as she looked at the adults.

“We need to take this to Morgan,” Grace looked at the others. “If he hears this…”

“It’s too late for that,” Strand cut her off then continued more gently. “The plan is already in motion.”

With Annie’s help, Anne was using duct tape to put a large map up on the wall. “Let’s go over this again…”

While Anne talked, Daniel moved closer to Alicia. Earlier he had been integral along with John in setting up their defenses and figuring out where Virginia might place her backup forces. Alicia could tell he had his doubts about Anne.

“I’ve seen her type before, you can’t trust her,” Daniel said softly to Alicia. “During the war, back in my home country, I met a few like her. Always had their own agenda, those spooky spy types. They pretended to go along with yours as long as it suited them. You have to ask yourself is it worth it to trust her?”

“I have no choice now,” Alicia sighed. “This has gone too far. And I know she has her own agenda. I just hope whatever it is it doesn’t get us all killed.”

**A little bit later**

Alicia waited until Anne left then followed her out the door and into the corridor. “I don’t want this to be a bloodbath,” she said as she fell into step with the taller woman.

“Some things are necessary. Especially in this world. You should know that.” Anne didn’t look at Alicia when she said this.

“Like Logan and his people?” Alicia grabbed Anne’s elbow pulling her to a stop.

“Logan was working for Ginny. Taking him out made her come out of the closet sooner.” Anne smiled her enigmatic smile.

Alicia took a step back. “How do you know that?”

“Observation, surveillance. I have many skills after all. And so does Virginia. She’s been watching you probably ever since you settled into this factory. Plus, she has a big advantage over you. She knows the lay of the land. She’s from here. This is where she grew up.”

“What?” Alicia was taken aback. “How could you possibly know that?” Thinking back to Anne’s words, how she said she ‘wasn’t done’, Alicia felt a chill. “Why are you here, Anne? Why are you really here?”

For just a minute Alicia thought Anne might actually tell her the truth. That moment was broken when Daniel hurried down the corridor towards them.

“She’s coming! Scouts have spotted wagons on the road from the north and the south. And her shooters are moving into the trees across from the gate.”

“How many?” Anne asked.

“Just two. Right where we thought they would be.” Daniel gave Anne a short nod of acknowledgement.

“Tell Wendell to…” Alicia started to say.

“He’s already hidden in the pile of barrels.”

“The evacuation?”

“Under way.”

“Good. Daniel, don’t let Morgan…”

“I won’t. I’ll be right behind you, Alicia,” Daniel gave her shoulder a squeeze and hurried off down the corridor.

Alicia took several deep, calming breaths. She hadn’t realized Anne was still there until the other woman spoke.

“You can do this, Alicia. Just remember, whatever she says don’t react. Don’t let her score points that way.” Anne gripped Alicia’s shoulders. “Dig at her, just keep it within reason. She may draw on you but she’s unlikely to shoot you outright. She’s already said she wants you to herself.”

Alicia nodded her mind already on the coming confrontation. Anne released her and stepped back. Then, as if something else had occurred to her, she leaned forward and kissed Alicia on the forehead.

“Thank you for the other night. It’s been a long time since anyone has been that kind to me.”

Alicia nodded again and moved past her.

Standing in the shadows of the main door, Alicia tapped the walkie talkie at her belt. The transmit button was taped open. “Can everyone here me OK?”

Daniel, out of sight to the side, switched channels, listened, and gave her a thumbs up. “Good to go,” he said tensely.

Alicia let Virginia and her two men ride up to the closed gate before she moved out from the doorway and took her time advancing to the gate. When she was within range she spoke before Virginia could.

“Whatever you’re selling, go away. We don’t want it.”

Virginia sat on her horse, the closed gate and about twenty feet between them. Her two men – the same two as the conference behind the taco truck the day before – flanked her. From the corner of her eye, Alicia saw the man on Virginia’s right, Pete, slowly lower his rifle until it pointed at her.

“I’m not selling, I’m giving,” Virginia said effusively. “And today’s your lucky day. I’m here to give you the keys to your future.” Virginia touched the key on the lapel of her jacket. “We’re the future. You’re the past. I’m willing to let you join us so you can be a part of the greater good.”

_If she says ‘you will be assimilated’ and ‘resistance is futile’ I swear to god I’ll lose it!_ Alicia thought.

“As you see it,” Alicia shrugged, looked disinterestedly off to her left. Wendell was there between several barrels out of sight of Virginia and her men.

“I see the big picture, Alicia.” Virginia spread her arms out broadly. “I know it’s hard for some people to accept. This is a different world now. It’s survival of the fittest. Survival of the strong and useful. It may not be nice, but I’m a leader who’s willing to make the hard decisions. I’m uniquely qualified to be able to know what’s…”

“What’s best for everyone? Wow! I’ve never heard that before.”

Virginia was clearly annoyed now.

“You listen little girl,” Virginia leaned forward on her horse and looked down at Alicia. “I’ve studied cultures all over the world; watched them fall apart due to a lack of strong leadership. That’s not going to happen here. Not if I can help it. You turn around now and go get Morgan.”

“Nah, I’m kinda enjoying this, just me and you. This is what? Our third date? About time we got serious, isn’t it, Ginny?” Alicia winked at the other woman suggestively.

Virginia swung her leg over and pushed off her horse. The horse backed up, agitated and the man who had been on her right, moved to take its bridle.

Advancing on the gate, Virginia raised a finger and pointed at Alicia. “I do know what’s best, and I’m willing to do what needs to be done. Not like you people with your care packages left on the road side.” Alicia let her talk, let her get angry. The more upset she became the more mistakes she would make. Like getting herself in the line of fire between her men and Alicia. “This is a horrible, horrible world with horrid people in it! I…”

“Imagine that! You fit right in!” Alicia goaded.

Virginia froze with her right index finger pointing through the gate and her left hand on her holstered sidearm. What had once been anger in her eyes was now something more intense. Rage.

“There is menace in my words, girl,” Virginia said tightly. “You would do yourself good…”

“Really? Menace? You think?” Alicia interrupted. “Because if you have to explain it, darlin’, it isn’t that scary!”

Virginia clenched her jaw and took a step back as she worked to control herself. With a sniff and a weird shake of her head, she calmed herself. Then she raised her right arm and smiled. Alicia had never seen such depth of coldness in her eyes.

Keeping Virginia between herself and the two mounted men, Alicia raised her arm.

“What are you doing?” Virginia’s smug smile faded.

Alicia looked up at her arm. “What this? I could ask you the same thing.”

For the time it took Alicia to breathe in and out three times there was a standoff. Though her eyes were on Virginia, Alicia was aware when Pete made a quick move to turn his horse. That was when the shooting started.

Alicia ducked and reached out to slide the gate open so she could reach Virginia. The first two shots had come from behind her and were aimed by Anne and John, she knew, at Virginia’s snipers in the trees ahead of her and on the other side of the road. The third took out the man to Virginia’s right. As he fell, the other man, Pete, struggled to control his rearing horse. When the horse finally had its feet on the ground, Wendell rolled out from cover and fired his over and under shotgun twice in quick succession.

Pete’s body hit the ground at Alicia’s feet the walkie talkie on his belt squawking with excited voices. Virginia had rolled away from the gate and was struggling to pull her revolver from the flapped holster.

Snatching up the radio, Alicia went to Virginia and put her boot on her hand and holster. Holding the radio out she lowered her knee into Virginia’s chest.

“Tell your other people to stand down, go away, or whatever.” Alicia drew her sharp weapon from her belt and held it next to her thigh the tip touching Virginia’s belly button. “You’ll think of something since you’re so good at talking.”

Virginia reached for the walkie but Alicia held it back. With her other hand she pushed down and felt, as well as heard, Virginia grunt when the tip of the broken barrel shroud penetrated the skin on Virginia’s abdomen.

“I push, you talk.” Alicia looked down at Virginia. The other woman’s eyes were, for once, unreadable.

Virginia nodded and Alicia pushed the transmit button. “Renaldo? Ellen? Stand down, things aren’t working out real good today. Go on back to the settlement. I’ll meet you back there.”

There was another squawk as someone asked a question. Virginia frowned, unhappy to be questioned no matter the circumstance.

“I said go on back, I’ll be along.”

Alicia pulled her weapon away from Virginia while still keeping the pressure of her knee on the other woman’s chest. Setting the walkie above and to the side of Virginia, Alicia reached down and took the hat from Virginia’s head.

“They’re turning back.” Wendell rolled up as Alicia settled the broad brown hat with its green band on her head. “It’s you,” Wendell said grinning.

Alicia looked down at Virginia. The other woman lay still under her knee, face turned away, one hand still pinned at her side the other resting lightly on Alicia’s thigh.

_This is what it feels like having someone completely under your control. I could kill this aggravating little bitch if I wanted to, or just sit here forever enjoying the moment. The moment she finally shut the hell up. I can see why people get off on this. It’s a powerful feeling. It’s just not me._

Alicia took the hat off and placed it next to Virginia’s head. Before she could say anything, she heard Wendell behind her. “She wants you to move, Alicia.”

“Who does?” Alicia pulled the tape off the transmit button of her walkie and adjusted the channel down one notch.

Anne’s voice burst from the radio. “…dead or alive. Tell Alicia to get off her!”

Alicia didn’t have a moment to react or even to try to understand. Virginia was suddenly a tornado of movement under her as she bucked Alicia off and kicked out hard hitting Alicia under her rib cage knocking the wind from her lungs. Virginia kicked again, this time even harder, connecting with Alicia’s thigh on the inside, high up near her groin. Alicia fell back her sharp weapon under her.

A shot rang out kicking up gravel behind Virginia as she grabbed her hat and rolled away. Another shot put a hole in the hat as Virginia leaped toward her horse. Getting one arm over the saddle and one foot in the stirrup Virginia clung to the horse as it started to gallop toward the tree line. Alicia expected another shot to take Virginia in the back when, in a show of riding skill, Virginia managed to hoist herself into the saddle.

People were approaching from the factory. The first to arrive was Daniel, SKS rifle at his shoulder. “Do you want me to?” He asked, his rifle sights on Virginia’s rapidly disappearing form.

“No. Don’t bother,” Anne answered before Alicia could. “Funny how the last two rounds of the five in my rifle were duds.”

“Old ammo…” Daniel shrugged.

“Are you going after her?” Anne asked kneeling next to Alicia.

“No. Are you?” Alicia answered both hands pressed to her throbbing groin.

“I’m in no hurry. I know where she’s going.” At Alicia’s look of confusion Anne elaborated. “It’s not far from here and it’s not back to her people.”

“You spooks can’t ever actually answer a question, can you? Sometimes a taco truck is just a taco truck and a spook is a... whatever!” spat Daniel in disgust, as he turned and walked away.


	9. Secrets Are Like Hand Grenades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Put the pin back in that one and put it away before it blows up in both our faces.”

For once Morgan didn’t say anything. He stood in the doorway of June’s clinic as June checked Alicia’s ribs and her healing bullet wound. Alicia looked up at him once then just ignored him for the few minutes it took for June to finish.

When June was done, Alicia stood and pulled down her shirt. June handed her a bottle of water and, when she went to drink, both Alicia and June saw her hand trembling. So did Morgan.

“Are you alright, Alicia?” Morgan said gently.

“She kicked me in the ff… she kicked me in the cooch. But yeah…”

Alicia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking at Morgan she couldn’t think of what to say.

“I’m sorry, I guess is what I should say,” Morgan started. “Annie played me the recording.” Morgan looked away his jaw tight. “I didn’t see the danger.”

“Kinda hard to see when you refuse to look,” Alicia stopped and shook her head. “I can’t have this conversation right now. My head is too messed up.” She moved to the door, stopped and looked back at Morgan. “Look after everyone here. Keep them safe. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

Strand appeared at the end of the corridor and Alicia walked to meet him. “I guess we know why she’s here, finally.”

“I guess we do.”

When Alicia and Strand walked out into the courtyard, John and Daniel were washing down the two horses that had recently been ridden by Ginny’s men. Bloody water had pooled under the restless animals. As Alicia stood watching, John talked gently to the each of the horses reassuring them.

“Horses are smart,” John said wiping his brow. “They know something bad just happened.”

Out near the gate there was gunshot. Luciana had shot one of Ginny’s men just as he began to turn.

Alicia flinched at the shot. “Something bad just happened alright,” Alicia said under her breath. “And it’s not over yet.”

Beyond John and the horses Anne had the two saddles and the rest of the gear and weapons laid out on a table. Alicia walked over and stood beside her. “You’re going after her now?”

“Yes,” Anne yanked out the magazine from one of the M4 rifles and pulled back on the charging handle checking the chamber.

“Because that’s your mission, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anne answered.

“Dead or alive?” Alicia asked crossing her arms over her chest.

“You heard that?”

Alicia just nodded. “Then what?”

“Then I go back.”

“Lucky you.”

Anne’s hands stopped moving and she looked at Alicia her gaze inscrutable. “You know not what you speak of,” she said softly.

“Then tell me.”

“Not now.”

John was approaching with one of the horses. “This one is the calmest.”

Together he and Anne re-saddled the horse and Anne finished pushing supplies into a backpack.

“So, that’s it then? You just ride off into the sunset?”

“What? You gonna miss me?” Anne retorted, her usual snark back.

Alicia inclined her head to one side and couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto her face. “It’s been interesting at least.”

Anne let the moment linger a bit longer before she turned to Alicia again. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the big goodbye. I still need your help.”

“Really?” Alicia didn’t hide her surprise.

“Yes, really and so do Al and Isabel.” With a snap of her wrist, Anne opened a map and handed it to Alicia. “At the lending library where you hid your note, Nancy Drew, follow those trails and you’ll find an old mill. That’s where the lover girls have been shacked up.”

“How did you…?” Alicia didn’t know if she was angry or embarrassed.

“It’s my business,” Anne stated then hesitated. “It’s always been my business to know everything.” She dropped the backpack and moved to stand in front of Alicia. “That’s what has kept me alive. Secrets are like hand grenades. Dangerous to everyone and something you best collect all for yourself and throw only when you have no other choice.”

Alicia laughed. “Where do you come up with this shit?”

“You like it? Me too. I’m gonna write it down.” Anne hesitated then gently stroked Alicia’s cheek. “Meet me at the mill tomorrow morning. Come in a four-wheel drive. The road is rough,” Anne started to turn away, turned back. “I’ll be there before you. I just have to make sure Virginia goes where I think she’s gonna go. Don’t be late. Isabel and Althea are not going to be happy to see me. Especially Al.”

“You read my letter? Didn’t you?!” Alicia was stunned.

“Secrets…” Anne started. “Like the one you’re keeping about Althea; how you thought of her and not me. You didn’t write that for me to know. I shouldn’t have peeked at it; it wasn’t for me. I’m sorry.” Anne looked away for a moment before continuing. “And mine; my little grenade. That one was one I didn’t think was going to go off in my hand.”

Alicia grabbed Anne’s arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told them. It wasn’t my story to tell.”

“It’s OK. I can understand why you did, and maybe that was one I should’ve brought out into the light and picked over a long time ago.” Anne’s eyes moved away from Alicia and became distant. “Maybe if I had dropped that one on Isabel things would’ve been different between us and she could’ve seen a bit of the real me like you did and not just all the people I’ve pretended to be.”

“You really care…?”

Anne stopped Alicia with a finger on her lip. “That one I’m giving you. Now put the pin back in it and put it away before you hurt yourself with it.”

Slinging her pack on her back along with a rifle, Anne mounted the horse.

“Make sure these people are protected. I don’t know -- you don’t know -- what Virginia’s second in command might do when she doesn’t come back to their camp.” Anne glanced over at Strand, John and Daniel. “You’ve got some good people here. Don’t be afraid to use what you have like you did yesterday.”

“I got it handled.” Alicia patted Anne’s knee. “See you early tomorrow.”

**Present time at the mill**

Isabel stalked across the open space between the mill and the spillway. Anne was slowly getting to her feet. A sudden noise to the left and behind Anne made Isabel raise and sight her pistol, finger on the trigger. A horse was partially visible at the tree line pulling on the rope that secured it to the deuce and a half truck as it tried to reach a patch of grass.

Isabel swiveled back to Anne and adjusted her grip; the webbing of her hand moving higher on the pistol’s grip so that it was just under the cocked hammer of the .45. Anne took two steps to the side and one forward of her backpack and rifle and dropped to her knees with her hands, fingers laced, on top of her head.

“Is this better? We both know how itchy your trigger finger is.” Anne kept herself still, eyes on the woman in front of her though she could see Al moving in the background, rifle up as she sighted through the scope panning the woods and trail behind her. When Al’s rifle snapped back to the road directly behind her, Anne knew Alicia had arrived. “It’s Alicia. Don’t shoot.”

Anne snuck a peek over her shoulder as an old truck pulled into the clearing and parked to the right. When Alicia walked up behind her, Anne saw Al lower her rifle and smile. Isabel hadn’t moved except to lower her pistol slightly holding it close now in front at chest level.

“How did you find us?” Al shouted.

“I put a tracker in the love mobile.” Anne smiled.

“What are you doing?” Alicia looked down at Anne.

“Don’t do that much, do you? Get down on your knees?” Isabel said holstering her pistol.

Anne cocked her head. “More than you think, Isabel. It’s very humbling giving up your power. I’ll let you enjoy it a while longer. Unless you want to invite me in for a threesome. I’m sure Alicia wouldn’t mind waiting in the car.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Is that all you ever think about?”

“In the presence of three totally hot women,” Anne shifted her eyes from Isabel to Al. “Kinda hard not to.”

Isabel snorted in derision. Dragging the heavy plank they used for a footbridge forward, she slid it into place spanning the spillway. Before Anne could start across, Isabel kicked the end of the board so that it was supported on her side by less than a couple of inches. Resting the toe of her boot at the edge of the board, Isabel inclined her head in invitation.

“I’m to walk your plank, am I, Major?”

Isabel said nothing so Anne walked carefully to the middle of the spillway. Looking down she grinned. Water swirled around a series of sharpened stakes and a few rebar rods that were now directly below her. “Punji stakes, Isabel?” She said coming to a stop as the plank wobbled slightly. “You must have the new Martha Stewart zombie apocalypse design magazine. Suits you.”

“Time to _talk_,” Isabel snapped off the last word.

“You can sit.” Al stood beside Isabel. “If it makes you feel safer. Plus, I really don’t want to try to get your body up out of there. If you fall; accidental or otherwise.” Al glanced at Isabel.

“Funny I thought you’d be the mad one, Althea.” Anne sat carefully, cross legged, on the plank.

“Because of what you tried to do to Alicia? Or what you did to me; getting me and Isabel thrown out of my group?”

Anne didn’t answer, just gave a slight movement of her head in acknowledgement.

“Alicia is a big girl, she can handle herself,” Al said her eyes meeting Alicia’s. “As for our banishment; well, this place is kinda nice. And guess what? There’s no you!”

“Touché,” Anne conceded. “As for Alicia, you should’ve seen her yesterday facing down Virginia. By herself,” Anne said admiration clear in her voice. “If it wasn’t for Alicia, all those people would be dead or dragged off to be Virginia’s minions.”

“Who is this Virginia woman?” Al was confused.

“She’s the reason you’re here, isn’t she?” Isabel stared at Anne.

“Yes.”

“It’s a covert op?”

“An op within an op, actually…”

Anger coloured Isabel’s face as comprehension hit her. “When you… when you were dropped off?”

“Yes.”

As Isabel’s foot moved against the board, Al caught her around the waist pulling her back. “Don’t do that,” Al said. “Let her talk.”

“I was lied to!” Isabel shook off Al.

“Isabel! You were lied to ever day you were at CRM!” Anne shouted.

“Fuck!” Isabel snatched the pistol from her holster, but before she could point it at Anne, Al moved in front of her one hand on the gun low between them, the other clutching Isabel’s shirt at her throat.

Breathing heavy, Isabel still pushed at Al, trying to raise her gun hand. Al held her back though it was a struggle. “Isabel, please. This will solve nothing,” Al pleaded. “Take your finger off the trigger, babe. You and I both kinda value that part of me down there.” Al smiled when she said this.

Isabel looked down between them. The muzzle of the suppressor was pressed against the fly of Al’s jeans; the angle enough that if the pistol fired the round would go into Al’s flesh just above her pelvic bone. Isabel sucked in a breath and moved her finger to the trigger guard.

Slowly Isabel backed up Al staying with her. “I’ve done my duty, Anne! Done everything that was asked of me,” Isabel’s voice was close to the breaking point. “I was…”

“Loyal! Yes, you were. Why do you think you were on their list?” Anne’s voice was not as loud, yet just as intense. “You were good and you were loyal.”

“I’m not a fucking dog!” Isabel raised her gun hand again and Al put her hand over Isabel’s as Isabel thumped the side of the pistol against her head.

“Anne you might want to tone it down a bit,” Alicia knelt next to the plank bracing it from her side.

“All I ever wanted to do was serve! Serve the people of my country and protect them if needed. I was willing to give my life for that!” Isabel barely had control of her voice now and when Al looked up into her face her cheeks were wet with tears.

Al took the pistol from Isabel’s hand and held her around the waist.

“CRM took that and fed you enough to make you think you were still doing something noble.” Anne stood and crossed the bridge the rest of the way. “But like everyone else you were always deceived.”

Behind Anne, Alicia pushed the board tighter into place and, grabbing Anne’s pack and rifle, started across. As she reached the center, a loud noise behind her made her stop and turn. The horse was rearing up, front hooves kicking out at two dead that were reaching for it.

The heavy backpack hooked in the crook of her left elbow, Alicia lowered herself to one knee and sighted through the rifle’s scope. “I got this,” she said when she heard Al start to say something. The first walker dropped with a shot to its cheek below the eye, the second didn’t need Alicia’s help. The horse shifted its bulk when the walker clutched at its hind quarters knocking it to the ground. When the walker raised its head, the horse kicked out a powerful rear leg and the walker’s head disintegrated under the hoof’s blow.

Shaking the rope from its bridle, the horse walked toward the plank bridge. Alicia backed up slowly clucking her tongue as the horse began to follow her across. Once across, the horse walked to a clump of grass near the foundation of the mill and dropped its head to eat.

“I’m not a coward,” Isabel said to Anne as if their conversation had not been interrupted.

“I know you’re not, Isabel. General Bichette might have called you that, I never would. And I know what it means to serve...”

When Isabel scoffed at her words Anne’s jaw tightened. “We are different people, you and I. I did my duty too, what was asked of me.”

“You just took an extra piece now and then for yourself.” Isabel’s tone was scathing.

“Yes, I did. I admit it. I didn’t care who I hurt. Just you. I regret that I hurt you!”

Isabel made a dismissive noise.

“You don’t have to believe me. I know that’s a leap of faith, but I want you to know I was never so… I never respected you more than that night you walked out on me.”

Al eased her grip on Isabel’s shirt when she felt the other woman relax. Stealing a look over her shoulder she saw Anne standing with her arms out from her sides. Alicia was next to her. Looking back at Isabel, Al’s heart broke at the pain she saw in her lover’s face.

“You fucked me too, didn’t you? Just in a different way than CRM.”

“Yes,’ Anne replied softly, clearly. “And for that I’m truly sorry.”

Isabel did not reply as she turned and walked back to the mill.

************

Alicia followed Al up the ladder to the second floor. Stepping off, she gazed around. Al watched as Alicia’s eyes roamed over the bed – blankets tossed back hurriedly and pillows with two distinct impressions left by the occupant’s heads – and settled on the guitar case.

“Al, you got a guitar! Where? Is it yours?” The happy excitement slipped off Alicia’s face when she looked at Al.

Al stood at the bottom of the ladder that led up to the third floor and Isabel’s crow’s nest. Her face was a mask of pain. Alicia stood beside her and they both looked up at Isabel’s legs. Al gave her head a quick shake and smiled at Alicia. “It’s good to see you,” reaching out she wrapped Alicia in a strong hug. “I was worried about you.”

“I wasn’t worried about you!” Alicia put her arms around Al’s waist and hugged her just as hard. Her face settled into Al’s shoulder at her neck and she breathed in Al’s warm, comforting scent. Alicia closed her eyes and wished she could stay like this for longer; like maybe an hour or forever.

Eventually Al released her and stepped back. Alicia looked at Anne who was looking at her with a look of understanding and just a little snark.

“Don’t.” Alicia walked toward Anne who stood near the fireplace. “Put the pin back in that one and put it away before it blows up in both our faces.”

Anne mimed taking a pin out of her teeth, carefully replacing it in a grenade, and placing the grenade in her pocket. With a last flourish, she faked zipping her pocket shut.

“I can go wait in the car if that’s what you’d rather do?” Anne said tilting her head and flicking her eyes toward Al and Isabel’s bed.

Alicia looked at Anne; rolled her eyes.

Anne bent to the fireplace and poked at the ashes. There were some warm coals, so she took some of the dry moss, twigs and small wood scraps she found next to the hearth and placed them carefully on the glowing embers. Two strong breaths set the moss blazing. When Anne began looking for water to fill the pot, Al took over.

“I’d kill for a coffee. Seems I had some in my gear. The gear that someone stole.” Anne said sitting back on the bench beside Alicia.

“I bet,” Al filled the pot and swung it out over the fire. Taking the two mugs from the mantle, Al poured packets of coffee into each as she waited for the water to boil. “What else did you kill for?” Al asked softly.

Alicia recognized the change in tone when Al shifted into her interviewer’s voice.

Anne noticed the change to. She cocked her head at Al; seemed about to say something. Then she sighed and looked around smiling. “This is nice. Reminds me of Vermont; where I grew up.”

Slightly behind and to the left, Al saw Isabel step down from the second ladder and pause when Anne began to speak.

“That’s where you’re from? Vermont?” Al’s voice was still gentle.

“Yes. Out in the country. We had an estate. That’s what my father liked to call it. When we would leave New York City to go back to Vermont he always said ‘we are returning to our estate in the country.’” Anne said this with a sophisticated, slightly British accent. “He was a right snob my father and my mother, she was just a bitch.”

Out of the side of her eye Al saw Isabel lower herself to sit at the edge of the broken floor next to the ladder.

“Did you like it there? Vermont? Despite your parents?”

Anne looked directly at Al. “I did almost everything in my life to spite my parents.”

“You were an only child?” Al asked as she handed Anne and Alicia enamel mugs of black coffee.

“How did you guess? No, never mind. You were a good journalist. You’re good at reading people; putting them at ease.”

“I like to think it’s my cute smile.” Al smoothed her hair back, let a slow smile play across her face. “Makes people trust me.”

“Works for me,” Alicia said re-crossing her legs and sipping her coffee.

Anne laughed lightly. “Vermont, let’s see. I think that’s the only place I ever felt safe. And I don’t mean in the house with my parents. I mean anywhere they weren’t.” Anne tilted her head back, took a deep breath. “I had a secret place. It was kind of like this only just a stone foundation and a couple of old boards. I would hide out there and pretend. I wrote notes to myself, hid them behind the rocks.”

“What did the notes say?” Slowly so she didn’t break the mood, Al placed a couple small logs on the fire and refilled the water pot.

“Someday you won’t be here. Sometime when it’s not now, you will be smart and respected.” Anne paused, smiled. “Someday someone will love you; someone will care about you and be happy when you come home.” Sniffing slightly Anne wiped the back of her hand under her nose. “They were like little gems, my sparkly words. I’d take them out of their secret spots and read them and put them back. They gave me hope… except the one about being smart cause I was already smart.” Anne winked at Al.

“Did they come true? Any of your secret notes?”

“The first one, obviously, and the second one well that’s a secret though I’ll tell you, I am very well respected I just can’t talk about it.”

“What about the last three? What about someone loving and caring about you and being happy when you come home?”

“I figure I’ll just get a dog!” Anne laughed at her own joke.

“Did you never think that might come true for you?” Al asked and Alicia marvelled at the tenderness in Al’s voice; the kindness Al was showing this woman who could be so cold.

Anne turned her head and fixed an intense look on Al. “No. I never gave up. In fact, I was planning to retire before all this happened. Before that last mission in the Ural Mountains when my team went in and stole the virus.”

Al let this revelation go. That was a story for another time.

“I was thinking about my retirement fantasy this morning when I came here. I still own a piece of the property in Vermont. The part on the lake like here. It was beautiful; a mix of hardwoods and pine like this. I’d build a cabin; all soaring beams and big stones for the fireplace. And a screened porch where me and my gorgeous, young lover,” Anne glanced quickly at Alicia, “would drink coffee in the morning looking out at the still lake waters. In the afternoon we would make love for hours and not care about anyone or anything.”

“Sounds nice…”

“And it’s never going to happen. The dead walk the earth and blah blah blah. You know the rest.”

Al was about to say something but Anne didn’t let her. Turning her head slightly she called over her shoulder. “Hey, Major Marvel? Why don’t you come down and join us? We’ll play a game of_ Never Did I Ever_.”

Isabel descended the ladder dropping the last couple steps with a thump of boots on concrete and Al thought of the other day when they had made love all afternoon.

“I’m not playing with you. You’ll win because there’s nothing you _never did you ever do_, is there?” Isabel took the empty mug from Anne’s hands and passed it to Al to refill as she sat next to her.

Anne looked up at the roof, turned her head first one way then the other. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

*************

Al made breakfast. Three pouches of dehydrated breakfast skillet and one of bacon and eggs mixed together. They ate passing the pot and spoon back and forth.

Once they were done and Al was rinsing out the pot, Alicia nudged Anne.

“Tell them about my mother. I want them to hear it from you.”

“Ah, the big secret,” Anne grinned. “After I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Never did I ever threaten to kill me?” Isabel hooked her arm through one of Al’s bent legs and leaned into her lover.

“CRM has lots of big, dangerous secrets. The biggest is what, Isabel?” Anne looked down at Isabel where Isabel sat resting her forehead on Al’s knee. “I know I’ve given you ideas what with the ‘making love all afternoon’ thing, but get in the game, fly girl!”

Isabel gave a little huff of a laugh and looked up at Anne. “Down over the hill; what goes on down over the hill. At our base.”

“Where the scientists play their games and try to save the world,” Anne said in a sing song lilt.

_“This is about the future and rebuilding what we all once had_,” Isabel recited and despite their closeness, Al felt a chill.

“And my mother was taken there,” Alicia prompted.

Al felt her jaw drop. “What, how?” Al stuttered.

“Stupid fucking CRM spooks and scientists!” Isabel said the last word with scorn.

“You brought some of them back in your chopper.” Anne looked down at Isabel again.

“I just flew. I didn’t ask.” Isabel met Anne’s look. “All of you covert operators looked the same to me when you came back in. Dirty, stinky…”

“…Injured, dead.” Anne completed. “Sometimes we brought people back, or the anthropologists did. The ones who were brought back had to meet a certain criterion…”

“A’s and B’s,” Isabel said softly.

Anne leaned back away from Isabel as if the words had shocked her. “How did you…?”

“I said **I flew!** I said **I didn’t ask**! I didn’t say I didn’t **listen**!”

Isabel and Anne were locked in a stare and Al could feel the electricity between them. So did Alicia when Al glanced her way. There was more to their relationship, Al knew then. A witch’s cauldron of physical yearning, plain lust, and an ever-shifting power equation that left Isabel with a dose of self-loathing. And it would never be resolved as long as they were anywhere near each other. Truth and apologies or not.

Isabel broke the stare and turned away pressing her face into Al’s knee.

“I can apologize for me, Isabel. I cannot apologize for them,” Anne paused. “Even if in your mind I was one of_ them_ and you weren’t.”

Al threaded her fingers through the thick hair at the back of Isabel’s head, rubbed her neck.

“You’re lucky you didn’t know…” Anne said and looked away.

“Didn’t know what?” Alicia pushed at Anne’s shoulder. “What didn’t you tell me? You said my mother was alive. She was brought to CRM and treated. WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME?!”

Alicia was standing now, glowering down at Anne. For once Al felt sorry for Anne; Alicia’s rage was a force to behold.

“I swore to you once I would kill you…” Alicia left the rest hanging.

Al didn’t see when Alicia had pulled her knife; suddenly it was just there in her hand.

Isabel shot to her feet grabbing Alicia in an arm lock; elbow under Alicia’s arm and her hand behind her head. Holding the smaller woman immobile, Isabel glared at Anne.

“You said you knew everything! Teased and bragged about the secrets you knew! For once in your life stop fucking around with people and just say it!”

Anne looked up at Isabel her face impassive. When her gaze moved to Alicia, Al saw pain and something – maybe guilt – flicker in her eyes.

Isabel took the knife from Alicia’s hand, passed it to Al, then she loosened her grip on Alicia without letting her go.

“People, survivors, were brought in and taken down over the hill for experimentation,” Anne stated flatly.

Al looked at Isabel and saw by the way she blinked slowly as if wounded that she knew, or at the very least, suspected.

“Keep going,” Isabel urged Anne. “Tell her what she needs to know about someone she cared about. Her own flesh and blood.”

Anne wasn’t moved, just carried on in the same flat voice. “Base personnel – all personnel whether military side or my side, the civilian side – were too valuable to test the cure on. So, they told us to bring in survivors. I never knew what the criteria was – what the A’s and B’s meant – I just,” Anne ground her teeth and looked away. “I just took the people that were assigned to me to take.”

“You _took_ my mother?!” Alicia was incredulous.

“Not me, you were west of here then. That’s not our Area of Operations. I knew who she was, I knew she was on base, down over the hill, months ago when they first started planning this mission.”

“How? How did you know who she was?”

Anne looked up at Alicia then away again. “I was told indirectly during those early briefings before coming here. They said I would meet the daughter of a test subject who was currently down over the hill.”

Alicia groaned and started to slip out of Isabel’s grasp. Al caught her from behind. “You lied to her!” Al spit at Anne.

“I didn’t lie!” Anne stood and looked from Isabel to Al. “They said she was alive. But that wasn’t enough. I needed to know more. I needed a secret; a little scrap of intel I could keep and use when I needed it. So, I seduced one of the scientists. A weaselly little man who was involved with some nutty ginger who was out in the field. It didn’t take much, his girlfriend had probably never given him a proper…”

“Spare us the gory details, Anne. Please!” Al implored.

“He told me TS 1040 was alive and doing quite well and would be going back out soon. He told me she was one of the rare ones. One of the fifteen percent.”

Looking right at Alicia, Anne pulled the pin and dropped her secret, her hand grenade.

“He told me she was one of the _Immunes_.”


	10. Leave Me Alone in My Own Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wish you would leave me alone in my own mind, but I love you, and I can’t seem let you leave.”

Al called a timeout.

Everyone separated going different ways. Isabel up to her eyrie, Anne to the back of the living area where she stood next to the sniper rifle, Alicia to the front where she stood in the open doorway looking out over the lake, and Al, she just sat back down by the fireplace.

Al could see Isabel’s lower body from where she sat, watched as Isabel pulled her notebook from her side pocket. Instantly Al envied her being able to write her poems; the words that crystallized and banished both angels and demons at the same time. If this had been another time and place, Al might have taken her guitar and worked on a particularly difficult lead riff or just played scales while her mind shifted gears and she slipped into calm.

Moving her hands while her mind was on something else entirely had always been a thing that Al found restored her balance. So, Al began to move around the living space putting pots and mugs away, tidying the bed and picking up stray clothes. This worked for a few minutes until she looked up and saw Alicia.

Dropping one of Isabel’s T-shirts on the bed, Al walked over to the doorway and stood opposite Alicia leaning against the wall. There were no tears on Alicia’s face though Al could see her eyes were red.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through all that.” Al reached out and brushed her knuckles across Alicia’s wrist.

“I’m not,” Alicia sniffed and looked away. “I wanted to know, needed to know…”

“And now you have hope.”

“I always had hope,” Alicia smiled sadly. “No one is gone until they’re gone, and I never saw her go.”

“It was cruel what Anne did.” Al tried to catch and hold Alicia’s roaming gaze.

“It doesn’t matter. Everything is so messed up now, no one should have expectations about how people are going to treat them.” Alicia broke off and looked out the doorway over the lake. It was cloudy now and the air smelled of rain to come.

After a moment, Alicia breathed deeply, looked at Al, then back into the mill. Inside, the broken building looked like a home; a comfortable home, and Alicia felt her heart clench with longing.

“It’s nice here, Althea.” Alicia said Al’s full name tentatively.

Al followed Alicia’s gaze in past the edge of the mantle, over to the side with the wash tub, to where the guitar case rested against the round stone bed.

“I think we’re going to stay here; whatever happens or doesn’t happen,” Al stated.

“I would love to live here.” Alicia smiled. “Here with you,” she added before she could stop herself.

Al flinched as if the words had been a blow to the center of her chest.

“Al, I’m sorry,” Alicia apologized. “I need to stop doing that to you…”

“It’s OK.” Al said softly. “I know…”

Alicia’s hands bunched into fists. “It’s not fair to you to keep on dreaming of what I can’t have. Not now when you have what you always wanted.”

Al felt her chest tighten and her hand went to her side pocket where she now carried the rescue inhaler. This wasn’t asthma, though. This was emotion.

Alicia was still looking at her and when Al’s eyes caught and held hers, Alicia looked away.

“I wish you would leave me alone in my own mind, but I love you, and I can’t seem let you leave.”

When Alicia looked at Al, the other woman was staring at her with her jaw slack and her mouth slightly open. It was a look of vulnerability Alicia had never seen. And it tore at her heart all the more.

“OK,” Al said softly, slowly. “I can’t help you with what goes on up there,” Al tapped her temple. “That’s for you and you alone. What I can tell you is that for me, you’re still here,” Al touched her chest above her heart. “And that’s right where you belong.”

Alicia stood still for a long moment her eyes locked with Al’s. Then, with one long stride forward, she was in front of Al. She didn’t know what she was going to do until she did it. Laying her palms flat on Al’s chest she leaned in and, extending up onto her toes, kissed Al on the forehead.

** *********

Isabel stepped off the ladder and onto the second floor. Al was deep in conversation with Alicia so she walked toward the back of the mill. Anne didn’t move from where she stood looking out over the clearing toward the road. Isabel stood on the other side of the rifle from Anne.

“Do you have it zeroed? The scope?” Anne asked not looking at Isabel.

“Out to about 100 meters,” Isabel answered.

Anne made a sound of derision.

“Not much use to shoot anything beyond that range. Especially if it’s already dead,” Isabel countered. “.300 Win Mag is a better choice anyway.”

“For hunting maybe.” Anne finally looked at Isabel who stood impassively on the other side of the big gun. “The terminal ballistics of the .338 LM are far superior.”

Isabel shrugged one shoulder not engaging any further. A minute or two slipped by until Anne spoke again.

“I see you’re carrying a .45 semi-auto now.”

Isabel drew her pistol and pushed down on the safety/de-cocking lever with her thumb to safely drop the cocked hammer, then she pushed the lever all the way up to place the gun on safe. She held it, muzzle down handgrip reversed, out to Isabel.

“I like a girl that’s cocked and locked and ready for fun.” Taking the pistol, Anne hefted it. “You like that extra length and weight with the suppressor, do you?”

Isabel ignored the innuendos.

Anne held it in her right hand and sighted with her left eye. “I’m cross dominant, you know. That made it very easy to teach myself to shoot with my left hand. I could outscore anyone which especially pissed off the guys.”

“So, shoot it with your nondominant hand then.”

Anne smiled. “I’m always up for a challenge.” She switched hands and thumbed the hammer back re-cocking the pistol. Unhurried, she settled her stance and eased her finger onto the trigger before flicking off the safety. A water bottle sat on the end of the bench on the other side of the spillway. With a_ twippp_, the pistol barked and the water bottle exploded.

“Nice,” Anne handed the .45 back to Isabel.

Again, they stood for another minute or so not looking at each other. As before, Anne broke the silence.

“You can keep it.” She looked down at the rifle between them.

“Thank you.” There didn’t seem to be much else to say.

“Too bad you don’t have anything to give me.” Anne’s tone, as it was so often, sounded slightly suggestive.

Without thinking about it, Isabel reached into her pocket and pulled out her notebook. Flipping to the last page, she tore off the sheet and held it out to Anne who took it with a look of bewilderment.

Anne read slowly through the words on the page and when she looked up, Isabel was gone.

** A bit later**

Anne laid out the plastic-coated map on top of the gym mats on Isabel and Al’s bed. Just before Anne flipped another sheet, an overlay, over the terrain map, Al saw the three interlocking circles symbol in the bottom corner.

She and Alicia sat on the wooden bench at the foot of the bed. Isabel and Anne sat on the bed on either side of the map.

Anne had added dashed lines on either side of the lake to indicate trails. All the trails led to and from the old house. Isabel touched the outline of the house on the upper right corner of the map.

“Why is she there?”

“That’s her grandparents’ house. She grew up there.”

With an audible gasp, Isabel looked at Al. Al shook her head swearing softly. “Have you been there?” Al directed this question at Anne.

“I peeked in the windows…”

“So, you saw? You saw what was there?”

“I saw a bunch of dead people sitting around a table where they probably offed themselves and Virginia boiling the kettle to make tea,” Anne answered. “Very Norman Rockwell in his apocalypse phase.”

“So, off you go, then,” Alicia said sarcastically. “Dead or alive. We’ll have dinner ready when you get back. Give us a call if you need help carrying the body.”

Anne laughed, looked at Alicia’s _so what_ expression, and laughed again.

“I wish it was that easy. If it was, I’d have been done and out of here days ago. But it’s not. Virginia has information, both in document form and in her head that CRM wants.”

“So, sneak up behind her, you can sneak, can’t you? Knock her on the head, grab the papers and her unconscious body, and _vamos chicas.”_ Alicia looked disinterestedly off to her right.

Anne smiled. “I sneak very well, thank you, and that’s a good plan except that Virginia is a zealot of the highest order. She’s also majorly pissed off. She won’t give up anything easily. She’d probably rather die than be dragged back humiliated. In her own mind she thinks she’s right no matter what anyone says. If I have to kill her, then she dies a martyr in her own head. Besides, she will burn everything and put a bullet in her own head before she goes anywhere with me.”

Al was watching Isabel as Anne spoke; saw Isabel’s brows knit together when Anne said _‘dragged back’_. Isabel was putting the pieces together, but Alicia got there first. She had seen Virginia first hand on two occasions up close and personal. And she had heard the stories: Isabel’s and Anne’s.

“Oh, my fucking god! She’s one of you! You lost her and want her back.” Alicia bent over and Al couldn’t tell if she was laughing, crying or something in between. Slapping her knees Alicia straightened and looked at Anne. “You let that nutjob loose on us as if we don’t have enough problems out here!”

“Not me!” Anne was indignant.

“Maybe not, but you didn’t help much did you? You seduced her boyfriend…”

“Fiancé, she called him,” Anne clarified. 

“Isabel told us about the big scene at dinner when she confronted you. Is that what she’s pissed about?”

“That and her guy being dead. I heard CRM actually forced him to do that because he leaked information.” This from Isabel. “They didn’t know who to, of course.”

“Of course,” Anne smiled her enigmatic smile again. “That’s only part of her issue with me…”

“Let me guess…” Al spoke for the first time. “You seduced her too.”

“It was just a hook up,” Anne sat back, crossed her legs primly. “In the locker room showers next to the gym. You know what I mean?” Anne looked at Isabel.

“I do. Not with her, but I do.” Al was looking at Isabel incredulously so Isabel tried to explain. “It was a way to blow off steam. Meaningless encounters. A lot of us did it, even some of the straight girls.”

“And that was her?” Al asked. “A straight girl?”

Anne started to answer, looked at Isabel. “I thought so at the time, which made it more fun for me,” Anne gave her smile again. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“I didn’t know her like you did,” Isabel added. “But nothing about those science types would surprise me. Did you fu… have your encounter with her before that blow up in the mess hall? It was after that she went out and didn’t come back.”

“Before, several months before.” Anne looked away thinking. “I’ve been wondering why Jana assigned me to this mission…”

“The deputy director?” Alicia asked.

“When things fell apart and the virus spread out of control, she was Director, CIA. I heard she had been tapped to take over as National Security Advisor just never got there. I’m sure she was top of the list for CRM. Probably wrote most of the protocols herself.” Anne paused and looked at Isabel. “Did you ever hook up with Jana? In the showers?”

“Once,” Isabel looked away not meeting anyone’s gaze, especially Al’s. “She’s a bit too… creepy for me. Hyper dominant.”

“That’s for sure,” Anne agreed. “It’s one thing to give up some of your power when the relationship is equal. With Jana… well, she considered no one her equal.”

“She’s the same one that you told me about? From your past?” Alicia asked.

“My mentor,” Anne clasped her hands over her knee and rocked back. “That’s what my mother called her. I’m sure she _mentored_ plenty of young women in her time and in her various roles. Do you think she and Virginia…?” Anne looked at Isabel again. “Never mind. Don’t answer. What I do know is Virginia was bitter about our hook up. Tried to spread it around that I forced her…”

“That didn’t fly ‘cause everyone knew you,” Isabel stated blandly.

“Knew I’d fuck pretty well anyone if I felt like it and they wanted to. I never needed to force anyone. So, the long and short of it is, she’s hated me ever since and now, here I am out here to get her and take her back because she’s gone rogue.”

“So, what is your plan?”

“The whole enchilada. Get the documents, get her, and get her to talk. Anything less is failure to me. And as qualified as I am to get this done, there’s someone here who’s uniquely qualified to do the hard part – actually it’s the easy part – because Virginia loves to talk about herself.”

“Me.”

Alicia and Isabel looked at Al when she said this. Anne just smiled. “You passed the audition I gave you earlier with flying colours.”

“You’re nuts! You can’t send Al in to talk to that woman!” Alicia stood up. “She’s even crazier than you are!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Alicia. _‘Where is the reporter girl, Althea?’_” Anne mimicked Virginia’s accent almost perfectly. “_’I do need my close up, I mean my interview.’_”

Al took Alicia’s hand and pulled her back down on the bench. “It’s all right, I’ll do it. I’ve interviewed worse in my time.”

Only much later would Al know how wrong that statement was.

** Later**

The rain held off while they got ready. Anne took Al aside to brief her. Alicia loaded spare clothes into a backpack and watched Al checking her camera and nodding to Anne. Isabel passed Alicia a 9mm Glock in a clip-on holster and a spare mag.

“I don’t trust Anne. Al, can handle herself though. She will be alright.”

“She’d better be.”

The shortest route to the old house was over the dam. Isabel volunteered to swim across with a rope the others could use to guide them across where the current was strong. Arriving at the end of the near side of the dam, they discovered someone already had the same idea. Only it was a chain. Just under the water and spanning the broken part of the dam was a heavy, rusty chain. As it made its way across to the other side where the dam’s control gates used to be, it passed through a series of concrete pillars just below the surface.

Isabel took off her boots and hopped across from one to the next using them like stepping stones. With her long legs she had no problem. When it was Al’s turn to cross, Anne leaned close to her ear. “Take your pants off. You can’t arrive for your big date already wet.”

After Al made it across and replaced her pants and boots, she found Isabel standing near the bank looking at something in the bushes. It was a canoe. One paddle lay in the bottom. “For our ghost you think, Al?”

“Yeah, a ghost with short legs, or when the ghost thinks the water’s too high to cross the dam.”

They followed a well-worn path for a bit more than a mile before the scent of wood smoke became apparent. “She’s not even trying to hide it now,” Isabel said as she walked beside Anne. “I’ve been seeing smoke from this direction all day.”

The path led to the back of the house and the plan to have Anne do a recon to see where Virginia was and if she was alone, was unnecessary.

Virginia was sitting on the end of the dock, pants rolled up to her knees swinging her feet back and forth in the water. Tied up near her was the row boat Al and Isabel had taken to cross the pond when they had left the house days ago.

The sun was behind them casting long shadows across the open meadow that stretched from the house to the pond. As they crept closer, a cloud moved over the sun and the sky darkened. As if that wasn’t atmosphere enough, a rumble of thunder sounded. Virginia turned her head to look toward the sound. Anne jabbed Al in the ribs. “Go, now!”

Al walked out of the trees and toward the smaller woman who stiffened when she spotted Al. Her hand went to her holster. Once Al was close enough and she saw the camera Al carried in her left hand, Virginia relaxed and stood.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Virginia smiled. Al nearly tripped over a rock in the grass, the woman’s smile was so unnerving. She met Al at the foot of the dock and extended her hand. “My name’s Virginia, but folks call me Ginny.”

Al took her hand finding her fingers cold and her grip flaccid. “I’m Althea. You can call me Al.”

One corner of Virginia’s mouth gave an odd quirk. “I’d rather Althea. Al is too masculine.”

Thunder rolled again closer and louder.

“Let’s go up to the house before the rain comes. I’ll make some tea and tell you all about myself.” Not waiting for Al, Virginia started up the path to the back porch. All of the windows on the back of the house had been uncovered and several shone with light. To Al, the house looked decrepit, uninviting and – considering what was inside – absolutely ghastly. She had never wanted to come back here, ever.

Noticing Al hadn’t moved, Virginia turned and smiled. “C’mon now. You don’t want to be gettin’ wet, do you?” Virginia continued up the path and Al gave herself a shake.

“If she says _‘mama and papa are waitin’ to meet you’_,” Al whispered to the microphone Anne had clipped out of sight on the collar of her brown jacket. “I’m going to fucking shit myself.”

“Easy there, Ms. Walters,” Anne’s voice said in the bug in Al’s ear. “This interview hasn’t even started.”

Al reached the porch and tried to smile as Virginia held the screen door open for her. “Trick or treat,” Al mumbled under her breath as she preceded the other woman into the house.

“Why don’t you sit right here,” Virginia touched a wooden rocking chair near the stove its back to the far corner where Al knew the bodies at the table waited. That area had been in semi darkness as Al entered the house. She panned her camera – the camera that had been on and recording since she stepped out of the trees – that way anyway.

Al sat where she was told. “I’ll put the kettle on,” Virginia said turning away. The stove was old; a wood and oil burning combo probably from the 1920’s. Virginia had cleaned it up and Al shivered thinking of the all the cobwebs and spiders that must have been in it. She watched as Virginia used the lifting handle to pry up the cast iron plate so she could drop in another piece of wood.

It was already warm in the room. Al shifted in the hard chair wishing she could open the collar of her jacket and shirt. When Virginia turned away and moved to the counter, Al moved her body in the chair with slow, gentle movements.

Al had been impressed with Anne’s spy gadgets when she had fitted Al with the wire. She was even more impressed when Anne clipped the tiny button hole camera to her jacket. Anne’s orders had been for Al to move around the room so she could get an idea of the layout for her eventual arrival. That wasn’t working out so well as Al was loath to move from the chair.

“So, how do we do this?” Virginia’s voice sounded from the ear bud Isabel and Alicia shared unhappily. The other was fixed in Anne’s ear and she had complete control over the tablet that was receiving the tiny camera’s image.

Virginia had turned from the stove and was handing Al a tea cup and saucer. Sitting in another rocking chair to Al’s left, she reached out and patted Al’s knee. “The interview, silly. Should I just talk or do you ask questions?” It was obvious to Al that Virginia preferred the first option.

Al balanced her camera on one knee and the tea saucer on the other. “Umm, you can talk...”

“That’s good. Then let me start by introducing you to the family.”

Al’s tea cup rattled in its saucer and she nearly dropped it. Virginia hadn’t noticed as she had risen from her chair and, setting her tea aside, reached for something on the counter beyond the stove. Al had regained her composure by the time Virginia sat back down holding an 11 by 17 framed picture.

Virginia gazed at the picture for a moment her eyes distant. “The family,” she announced when she turned it toward Al. Using the pretense of needing to focus her camera, Al gently set her tea cup and saucer on the floor near her left foot.

Al zoomed in and adjusted the focus on the picture Virginia held. Looking in the LCD screen she swallowed hard. In the photograph, a group of people sat around the same table that Al knew was half hidden in gloom behind her. At the far end sat a dour old woman and Al could see where Virginia got her wide spaced, cold eyes.

“Oh, that’s Gramma,” Virginia said as if reading Al’s mind. “She’s passed now, rest her soul. She had a food analogy for everything,” Virginia chuckled. “Do you need sugar for your tea, darlin’?” Virginia started to reach for a small canister behind her. “Or are you sweet enough already?”

“No, umm, I’m fine.” Al cringed inwardly at the slight stammer in her voice.

Virginia had let the picture flop over flat in her lap so Al moved the camera lens to her face. “You know,” Virginia leaned forward as if to share a secret. “In her last years, she was into some weird stuff. Transcendentalism, eastern mysticism. Grandpa swore if she took up yoga, he was going to divorce her! We were all surprised when he brought home that Buddha and plunked it down on her grave. She’s buried right out front.”

Al felt her mind’s focus begin to recede to a pinpoint. Trying to counter it, she imagined what Isabel must be thinking watching and listening to this.

“We used to have seances,” Virginia continued. “Right back there at that table.”

_Not working… _

Al didn’t move and couldn’t speak. Grasping at anything to get herself back to reality Al’s mind latched onto a phrase from earlier.

_Never did I ever_, she thought. _Interview someone as weird as this._

“How did that go?” Al finally found her voice.

Virginia grinned. “How do you think it went?”

When Al simply shook her head, Virginia smiled again. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Althea?”

_Never did I ever interview someone as crazy and cunning as this._

“I don’t know. I’m kind of a see it to believe it sort of girl,” Al said hoping and wishing Virginia would talk about something, anything else.

“Get back on track, Caspar!” Anne said in her ear.

“The eastern religious stuff,” Al cleared her throat and continued. “Is that what you studied in school and you shared it with your grandmother?”

_Lame,_ Al thought.

“No, darlin’ I’m an anthropologist. I went to Tibet, Nepal, China; places like that to study those cultures. I might have even had an interview with the Dali Lama, but I could never find the time.” Virginia rocked back in her chair, gazed at the ceiling. “No, Gramma came by that all by herself. She was a woman ahead of her time.”

“Like you?” Finally, Al found and seized on a solid nugget.

“There you go, girl!” Anne said.

“Yes, only I’m even farther ahead. We have the future, that’s what I’m out here trying to prove. A future that can be molded and shaped if only a strong leader will step up and take control. Out there,” Virginia spread her arms broadly, “it’s survival of the fittest and if the fit are to thrive we need leadership that’s willing to make the hard decisions.”

“A leader like you?”

Thunder boomed rattling the glass in the windows of the porch and when the lightning flashed only seconds later, Al saw Anne leave the cover of the trees and run towards the house. Al hadn’t even noticed when it got dark outside.

“Exactly! With my education and field experience I’m the best one, no, the only one, who can get things back on track. I’ve studied cultures all over the world, even been there when they fell apart. This, this is a grand opportunity, Althea! An opportunity for a great leap forward. You had the past. I’m the key to the future!”

_Never did I ever, meet someone so self-delusional. I’ll be only too happy when this is over and I can leave you alone in your own cracked head, Ginny!_

Virginia rose from her chair and went to the counter where Al watched her light a kerosene lamp. “Anyway,” Virginia said as if it pained her. “That’s enough about me.” Carrying the lamp out in front of her, she walked past Al toward the table and its grisly occupants. “That’s not why you’re really here is it?”

Al stood slowly with her camera to follow Virginia. Thunder sounded again close and heavy and Al saw movement on the porch near the door. A flash of lightning illuminated Anne briefly as she opened the door and moved silently inside. Shifting to her left, Al blocked Virginia’s line of sight long enough for Anne to move into the shadows.

“You didn’t come here to interview me; you came here to interview the ghost.”

Al stepped carefully toward the table her camera out in front at chest height. “What ghost is that?” Al felt herself finally slip into calm as her voice shifted into the softer, higher tone she used to gain and hold interviewee’s confidences.

“The ghost that’s been watching you. The ghost in the old mill. The ghost that watched you play. You have a lovely voice, Althea. I especially enjoyed the Spanish ballad. ‘_Eres mi razon de ser. You are my reason to be’_. Such a lovely sentiment. I had someone say that to me once.”

Virginia was standing in front of the table now. Slowly she moved from place to place around the table pausing to light several candles before coming to a stop in front of the empty chair where she set the lamp down carefully. Her hat – Al noted the bullet hole – covered the empty plate and presumably the old revolver. In front of the hat was the metal box that just days ago Al had put back in its hiding place. On top of the box was the folded poem covered by the brass key.

“Who said that to you? Your lover at CRM?” Al was concentrating on Virginia and trying to ignore the bodies at the table.

“No, not him. He was such a weak man after all. He let himself be seduced by that woman.”

_The same woman currently lurking in the shadows behind you. _

When Virginia picked up her hat and put it on her head, Al saw the gun was still there. “I took my things back,” reaching out she touched just the corner of the box then the folded poem. “I couldn’t have you putting your hands on them.”

“Who said that to you?" Al repeated. "The boy you wrote the poem for?”

“Grampa didn’t like him. He was Mexican,” Virginia stated as if that explained everything. Al panned out slightly with the camera when Virginia shifted her gaze to the body in the chair at the head of the table. “_’You are lost to us’_. That’s what he said.”

“He said that when you fell in love with a boy he didn’t approve of?” Al stepped back and raised her camera a bit more. She was on the other side of the table where, with the focus wide, she could capture Virginia, dead Grampa, and Anne, the ghost in the background.

“I was such a pretty child,” Virginia was now looking over Al’s shoulder at the painting on the wall behind her. “I used to play out there along the wall.”

Al glanced back but the painting was in shadow. When she looked back, the gun was gone from the plate in front of Virginia.

Al was about to say something when Virginia continued. “No, that’s what they said when I sat here and told them I was leaving. I had been called up by CRM. They needed me. Needed my expertise. My family never believed in me, not the way CRM did. They had an idea for how the future should be and they needed me to fulfill it. They had the vision and the resources. I had the key. And I was going to put it all together, I’d started to put it all together. I had it all planned out, all laid out here,” from the left front pocket of her jacket, Virginia withdrew something small. When she held it up between her thumb and forefinger, Al saw it was another kind of key. One she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“This is the key to it all! All my work. Months ago, I was ready to come in. Ready to give my presentation. Show all of them what I had achieved, little old me. Some of them never believed in me they doubted I was up to the task,” Virginia’s jaw moved sideways and the corner of her mouth pulled down. “That’s when I heard I was being recalled. The faction that had lost confidence in me didn’t want me out in the field anymore. They said I was too radical; that I was doing more harm than good. They just don’t understand! This is the key! The key to the future! I’m just waiting for CRM to come to their senses. I know there’s people there that still believe in me.”

Thunder boomed loud enough that Al flinched. Lightning lit up the room as if it were day. Anne had creeped farther into the room and now stood behind Virginia. Al watched on the LCD screen of her camera as Anne’s eyes followed Virginia’s hand as she went to slip the small key back in her pocket.

Anne made a quick move reaching out to snatch the key from Virginia’s hand. Seeing Al’s startled reaction, or sensing the movement behind her, Virginia started to turn. When she was halfway around, Anne lunged forward. With one hand, Anne struck Virginia a blow under the chin. Her other hand grabbed at Virginia’s jacket on her left side. Virginia stumbled backward, hit the table then bounced back her left arm thrust out with the little revolver in Anne’s face.

“You! I heard your voice on the radio and now, here you are! Good!” Virginia sneered.

Al thought that after all her dramatics she would launch into a rant about how CRM and how Anne had done her wrong and they would all be there forever as she counted her enemies over and over. Virginia, of course, did none of that, she simply pulled the trigger.

The revolver didn’t fire. In the split second it took for Virginia to toss it behind her onto the table and reach for her sidearm, Al saw that the hammer had not struck the round in the cylinder. It had stuck just short of all the way forward. It didn’t stay stuck for long though. Hitting the table was enough to loosen it and when the hammer came down the little gun fired.

Anne and Virginia were grappling in front of the table. They didn’t see the bullet exit the gun and hit the lower part of the kerosene lamp a glancing blow. The lamp spun; the hole in its base spewing liquid fuel around the table. Al was back against the wall waiting for the table to erupt in flames. That didn’t happen. At least not when Al expected it to.

Anne kicked Virginia into dead Grampa. The chair and the dead man fell over almost hitting Al. Virginia fell back her arm out to brace herself. Hitting the table, her hand closed over the big brass key. Rearing up, the key held like a dagger, Virginia pushed off the table to lunge at Anne.

In slow motion Al watched the candles in their tall holders sway and fall. The ones at the back of the table fell harmlessly to the floor. The one at the front rocked back and forth twice before slowly falling to the side the flame landing in a puddle of kerosene.

Al found it almost ironic when the table burst into flames.


	11. I'm Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you’re not kind, what are you?”

Al dropped down and away from the burning table. With her camera in front of her she tried to crawl toward the kitchen and the door to the outside. Something blocked her path. Dead Grampa, his empty eye sockets staring in accusation, seemed to be going to have the last say in his house.

Al could already feel the smoke affecting her. She knew she needed to stay low. The fire was spreading fast; the table and its contents, the torn wallpaper and even the bodies, dry tinder to the hungry flames. Rising to her knees, Al duck walked over and around dead Grampa and, once past, she began to crawl on what she hoped was the most direct path to the back door.

She was about half way there, camera still in front of her, when something landed heavily on her head and upper back. Her face was jammed down onto the camera. Al felt her chin split and stinging pain cut into her right eyebrow. When she opened her left eye, she saw Virginia right beside her, the brass key still clutched in her right hand. In her left hand, Virginia now had her revolver and she was aiming at someone or something over and beyond Al.

“Bitch!” Al heard Virginia hiss as her thumb cocked the hammer.

Al reached up and slapped at the gun. Virginia’s hand was knocked to the side and down and the gun fired into the floor. Before Al could do anything else another body was there and Anne was yelling.

“Keep going, Al! Get out!”

Al tried to draw in a breath. The smoke was worse now and her muscles refused to work. As she struggled a few inches forward on her elbows and knees, she watched fire like a living thing swirl across the ceiling. The beast was stealing her breath and her energy. She couldn’t see and could barely move. Pushing forward just a bit more Al gasped for air but found none.

Her head on her camera, Al thought that it was fitting she die this way getting a story. Just not in this damn old house! Pushing her foot out behind her, her toe found a crack between the floorboards she could use to lever herself forward.

“Al! Where are you!?”

Al looked up trying to locate the person behind the voice, tried to call out. She barely had air to breathe and none for her voice. The fingers of her left hand caressed the controls for her camera and she found the one she needed.

With the last of her strength, Al hit the toggle for the camera’s spotlight and pushed the camera out in front of her body.

She didn’t see, just felt, when boots pounded toward her and strong hands grabbed her under the arms and began to drag her. The last thing Al remembered was shoving her hand tight into the hand strap of the camera.

When she came to, she was outside the house. She knew this because there was air to breathe and it was raining. Her head was in someone’s lap and arms were around her. There was also a hand digging in her pocket.

“Put the inhaler in her mouth, Alicia.” Isabel’s voice was saying. “Tell her to breathe in hard when you push down on this. I’m going back for Anne.”

Al felt the plastic mouth piece of the inhaler pressed between her lips and drew in air as hard as she could when Alicia’s voice said, “Breathe, Al! Please.” After this was repeated twice more, Al felt some of the weight lift from her chest.

Warm wet hands smoothed hair from her face and some of the thick wetness out of her right eye. Al looked up at Alicia. “Hey, you.” Alicia was grinning. “I always thought that camera would get you killed not save your ass.”

Alicia reached over Al and turned off the camera light. Al didn’t know if it was still recording and didn’t care. When the light went out Al became aware of her broader surroundings. The back of the house was on fire; the door a dark, uninviting and empty maw.

_Isabel!_ Al tried to roll off Alicia, to get to her feet and run to the house. Her body wouldn’t respond and she was unresisting to Alicia’s arms pulling tighter around her.

A gunshot sounded from the house. Al thought for sure that would be the last thing she heard, and the last thing she would see, was the house collapsing and taking crazy Ginny, Anne and Isabel with it. This was not to be as, a moment later, there was movement at the door and two people appeared, one dragging the other.

Before Al could identify who they were, Isabel’s voice was shouting. “Get Al in the boat, Alicia! She’s still in there!”

Then Al was being dragged again across the grass and onto rough wood. In front of her she could see Isabel’s back getting closer. Then, beyond that, a figure on the porch of the burning house its arm raised. Al opened her mouth to shout a warning but no sound would come. One hand was still tangled in her camera and the other could reach nothing so she did the only thing she could. She bit Alicia’s wrist where it rested alongside her cheek.

“Shit, Al!”

For a long dreadful moment Al thought Alicia hadn’t gotten the message and Isabel and Anne, then maybe even Alicia and herself would be gunned down by the delusional anthropologist. Then Alicia was shouting again, “Isabel, get down!” and throwing her body over Al.

Wood splintered near Al’s left hand and she instinctively pulled the camera in closer. The next three shots went somewhere else and when they stopped Al knew Virginia’s revolver was empty. Mumbling and swearing, Alicia lifted off her body. “Stay down!” she shouted again and hot brass rained down on Al as Alicia opened up with her Glock.

When the pistol ran dry, Alicia did a fast mag swap that would have made Al’s firearms instructor proud. She didn’t fire though, and when Al looked past her boots, and past Isabel and Anne on the ground at the end of the dock, there was no one else in sight.

The next few minutes went by in a blur.

There was brief argument. Anne was saying something about a body. Alicia was replying in the negative. Finally, the disagreement ended when Isabel barked an authoritative, “We’re leaving!”

Al was then lifted into the boat her head on the far gunwale. Anne was placed opposite her and someone, Isabel or Alicia, took her hand and put it on Anne’s knee. “Keep pressure on that,” someone said and Al when pressed down warm sticky blood oozed through her fingers.

Al felt the boat push away from the dock and turned her head to watch the house burn.

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled out of the rowboat and gruffly to her feet. She stood unsteadily clutching Isabel’s shoulder. Isabel pulled her close and, for a moment, Al wished she could simply melt into the other woman as Isabel whispered in her ear. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m still here,” Al said hoarsely and smiled when she heard her own voice.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Isabel said and Al realized she could see the other woman in a faint light from above. She closed her eyes as Isabel wiped at her face with a damp cloth, and when she opened them again, she could see better. The light was the moon, at about half full, and it got brighter and dimmed again as it moved in and out of clouds. Al blinked as she remembered it was almost a month that had passed since she first contacted Isabel by radio.

“Take this.” Alicia thrust her camera at her and Al wrapped her arms around it.

They walked slowly toward the old mill, Alicia supporting Al and Isabel supporting the more seriously wounded Anne. Inside the lower level Isabel clicked on a flashlight and found a first aid kit in the MRAP. “We need to get up to the second floor, where it’s safer,” Isabel was saying. “Get the ladder, Alicia. I’ll wrap Anne’s leg.”

With Anne’s wound bandaged, they climbed the ladder. Al went first, followed by Alicia, Anne and Isabel. Al could hear Anne grunting with each step. At the top, Al rolled away from the ladder and coughed. Her lungs were clearing, but her throat felt like there was a colony of bees in it, stinging and buzzing and otherwise being annoying.

Once everyone was off the ladder there was absolute silence. Curious, Al rolled to her other side and saw why.

Virginia sat on the mill stone bed in a bright beam of moonlight. Her hat hung down her back from its chin strap and her ginger hair was wildly disheveled. Al thought she might be a ghost until she saw that in her lap was a Thompson sub-machine gun. She had her chin lifted to the moonlight an oddly serene smile on her face.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Virginia gestured with her right hand. As she did the moon came fully out of the clouds and the mill was lit in harsh tones of white on black. Virginia’s left hand was on the pistol grip of the Tommy gun; finger on the trigger. “It’s a great start. My brother had big plans – thank you for burying him, I do appreciate that – he just died before he could see them through.”

Isabel was off to the right her pistol drawn and pointing at Virginia. Anne too had drawn her semi-automatic and held it in her left hand as she lay on her side with her right hand on her wounded leg.

“I can take her,” Isabel said softly.

“You do that,” Virginia said slowly, “even think about doing that, I’ll pull the trigger and your lover and her friend will be so much swiss cheese.” As Al watched, Virginia lifted the Thompson upright on her lap. The muzzle was pointing right at her. And Alicia. Al hadn’t been aware that Alicia was so close until the other woman started to move her body between Al and Virginia’s gun.

“Stop that! However sweet it is that you want to protect her, what you’re doing will just get you both killed.”

“So, what,” Alicia didn’t look at Virginia. She had stopped moving; one hand was on Al’s chest, the other reached for and took Al’s hand in a fierce grip.

“Don’t you want to know how I got here?” Virginia smiled in smug satisfaction. “Got here ahead of you? Lower you guns and I’ll tell you.”

“Stand down, Major,” Anne said to Isabel. Shifting her hand back, Anne rested her pistol on her thigh. Isabel just looked at Anne and shook her head. “Woman wants to talk, let her,” Anne elaborated. Something in Anne’s words, or the way she said them, got through to Isabel and she stood still, her pistol down and alongside her thigh.

Virginia looked closer at Isabel. “I thought I’d seen you before. Now I know! You fly for CRM. Major is it?”

“Yeah, Major Marvel,” Isabel said her voice low.

Al snickered and Virginia’s gaze flashed her way fixing on the camera in her lap. “Are you recording this, darlin’? You should be.”

In the background Al saw Isabel take a step closer to Virginia.

“Sorry,” Al said slowly and coughed. “Someone smashed my face … it… it’s busted.”

“Well, that’s really too bad,” Virginia said. Though the light wasn’t that great Al felt she did look disappointed.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Anne was mimicking Virginia again. “I was so looking forward to your hour-long rant. Who else has done you no good? Who else at CRM? But wait, hold your horses! You have a hero there, don’t you? Who is it? Tell us. I’m waiting with bated breath.”

Virginia opened her mouth, shut it. Smiling slowly, she inclined her head to Anne then looked at Al again. “You really should read those mystery novels you have laying around. _The Clue of the Broken Locket_ was one of my favourites. That boy’s book, now that one was so much more appropriate. _The Secret of the Old Mill_! How perfect was that? This mill does have secrets: secret doors, secret rooms, secret tunnels. My grand-daddy smuggled whisky and bourbon out of here during prohibition!” Virginia was almost vibrating in repressed pleasure. “And I had the key to them all,” Virginia pulled the brass key from her pocket. “How do you think your ghost came and went?”

“The ghost that watched Al and I making love? That’s a pretty fucked up ghost.” Isabel’s voice was harsh and Al realized that Virginia’s voyeurism had rankled her.

“Is that what you call it, darlin’? _‘Making love’_? Because you weren’t very gentle with your reporter girl. _Don’t knead the dough too hard_, Gramma said, _or it won’t rise_.” Virginia tried to smile, failed. “I always thought a female lover would be gentle. When I met Anne, she disabused me of that notion quite thoroughly.”

Anne laughed. “Did I? Seems to me you wanted a woman to do you _very _thoroughly. _‘C’mon baby show me what you can do!’_” Anne’s voice this time was a perfect imitation of Virginia. “_’Show me what I’ve been missing. Give me what only a woman can.’_”

Al and Alicia sat in stunned silence and Isabel used the moment to take another step closer. Virginia was another story altogether. Her face was dark with rage. “Don’t you dare mock me!” Dropping the key, Virginia stood; her hand was now free to take the forward grip of the sub-machine gun as she pointed it at Anne.

With Virginia’s attention diverted, Al raised her camera and focused the lens more fully on the enraged woman. Finding the aperture control without looking, she opened it wide to let in the most light possible.

“Were you…?” Alicia whispered in Al’s ear. Al nodded, her attention on Anne as she started to speak again.

“I was just a warm up, though, wasn’t I?” Anne said in her normal voice. “A warm up for Jana. Now that woman could give you what you wanted! Couldn’t she? Didn’t she?!”

“No!” Virginia raged. “Not that! That wasn’t what I wanted from her! I wanted recognition! She told me she was the only one who trusted me! I just had to prove to her I was the best one to set society straight! To make our world great again and I did! She wanted me to bring her the proof. Bring her the key…”

“This key?” Anne held up something small and indistinct. Al knew it was a USB key. A flash-drive. So did Virginia yet a part of her still wasn’t sure. She took her left hand from the pistol grip of her gun; her finger off the trigger, and reached down and into her pocket.

As her hand closed on an empty pocket, Isabel took one last long step and grabbed the Thompson. Disarmed of her weapon and most prized possession, Virginia stood dazed unable to move.

“Did you get all that, Al?” Anne broke the stillness that had fallen on the old mill.

Al coughed and gave Anne a thumbs up.

“Good.” Anne struggled to stand then limped forward to Virginia. Taking her chin, she turned the shorter woman’s head so their eyes met. “Don’t feel bad, Ginny. You got manipulated just like everyone else at CRM. Who do you think I learned all my tricks from?”

Dropping Virginia’s chin, Anne patted her cheek and turned away.

“Bitch!” Virginia said to Anne’s back.

Anne didn’t react, didn’t turn around.

“Shoot her, Major. I got _everything_ I needed from her.”

**The Next Day**

Al sat with Virginia in the warm sunlight at the corner of the mill that overlooked the dam and mill race. Behind them the heavy door was open, the brass key in the lock. Beyond the door were several rooms. One of the rooms had an iron ladder that led up to a wooden trap door beside the fireplace. A trapdoor so well concealed, Al and Isabel had not seen it. Virginia the ghost had used this secret door to come and go and spy on them.

Virginia’s hands were cuffed and her ankles in shackles made from iron bands and chains Anne had found in the room behind them. Isabel had not shot her; she didn’t have to, nor did she want to. Once Virginia knew she had been played by Anne and CRM, she had just plopped down to sit unmoving on the floor. When, this morning, she asked to come outside and sit in her favourite place in the sun, it was the first time she had spoken since the night before.

Alicia had driven Anne to retrieve a stashed radio to contact CRM, and Isabel was somewhere in the background watching unobtrusively. Virginia was still considered a suicide risk.

“I was told slaves were kept in those rooms,” Virginia glanced behind her at the dark doorway. “That’s why there were iron rings on the wall and these shackles.” She looked down at her feet.

“You used to come here? You and your boyfriend?” Al asked in her soft reporter’s voice.

Virginia smiled and for the first time it reached her eyes. “He was the only one who ever called me Ginny. I wanted people to, especially Grampa. He never would.” She looked away for a moment, squinting in the sunlight. “Grampa never respected me. Never understood my work. Most of them didn’t. Not even Gramma. She was crazy as a loon, don’t you know? It ran in her family, at least that’s what Grampa said.”

“I can see it I suppose,” Al said and looked away.

After a minute Virginia laughed. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “I might be crazy, but out here, I’m effective. Out here it’s survival of the fittest. And if that takes a little crazy, then so be it. In the end they’ll understand. My research will stand on its own. Jana will have what she wanted either way. Proof I’m crazy so she can discredit me, or proof I’m right and now they have their key to restoring society. That’s up to her.”

“CRM sounds like a cold place,” Al said and looked directly at Virginia.

“Oh, it is darlin’! Those people, the ones in charge, make all this seem sane. Out here the dead eat the bodies of the living because they’re compelled to. Back there, at CRM, they eat each other’s souls because they want to. Maybe, when I get back, I’ll do my social experiment on them! If they don’t kill me, of course!”

“You don’t seem bitter. I think I would be.”

When Virginia looked at Al this time her eyes had regained their coldness. They were also tinged with a little of what Al was beginning to think was insanity. “You didn’t have to live there, cooped up on those bases. They were more like prisons. People like your Major Marvel and Anne,” she said the second name with the jaw quirk Al was never going to get used to. “They filled the emptiness with desires of the body, not the mind. Out here I don’t need any of that. I can ride in the sun.”

Virginia turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes. After a moment she spoke again. “Don’t worry,” she moved to put her hand on Al’s and was stopped by the cuffs. “I won’t tell them about her.”

“Thank you,” Al said sincerely. “Now that I’ve found her, I don’t want to lose her.”

Virginia looked at Al, her eyes were softer, gentler and a bit confused. “You’ve been kind to me, Althea. I don’t know why.”

“If you’re not kind, what are you?” Al watched Virginia closely.

Virginia cocked her head to the side as she considered this. She was still thinking when Al looked away.

They were quiet for a time until Virginia took up the thread of their earlier conversation.

“It was our secret. I would come from the house through the tunnel under the dam.” Below them and just inside the door was a stone stairway accessed by an iron trapdoor that led three levels down to another heavy door. Beyond that door was a narrow, damp passage that led under the dam. On the other side, in a crumbled foundation, was another trapdoor and another stairway. This one Virginia had hidden with brush.

“We pretended we were forbidden lovers hiding from our disapproving parents. That was destined to come true when Grampa found out about him.”

“You wrote that poem for him. _‘Meet me at the old mill…’_” Al started.

“_’We’ll walk the path together, you can lead and I will follow, down past the race, along the bank __at the water’s edge we can rest.’'" _Virginia completed.

“Isabel found it and when she couldn’t read it all she re-wrote it.”

“I know. I read her version. It’s good. Better than mine. All her poems are good.” When Al sat back in surprise, Virginia looked sheepish. “I guess I should apologize for that.” Looking closer at Al she tilted her head to the side. “You’ve never read them? Her poems?” When Al shook her head, Virginia smiled again. “Most of them are about you. Except _The Ghosts Watched Us Play_. I liked that one. That and the last one. That last one was sweet, not like most of the others. Sweet and hopeful.”

It came to Al in a flash of insight and she heard herself saying: _“Sometime, when it’s not now…”_

“Yes, that one. I hope it comes true for whoever it’s for, but that’s unlikely isn’t it? In this world? Happiness is unlikely.”

“I’ll give her that. That line ‘happiness is unlikely’ and let her go from there.” Al sighed.

Virginia smiled again and Al felt just a little warmth. Warmth that had long been lost.

“I like you, Al. I wish I had known you before.”

Al smiled and looked away. That was something she had heard before.

“Will you tell me how he died, Ginny? Your boyfriend?”

Her cuffs rattled softly as Virginia wrung her hands. “I never really knew. They found him under the wheel. He could’ve jumped in, been pushed in; he could’ve been killed and thrown in. He might even have been climbing along the wall and fallen. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter now,” Virginia glanced at Al, held her gaze her own eyes unreadable, then looked away.

“All I know is I’m still here,” Virginia blinked and looked up at the sun, “and so is he.”

**Later**

The Reclamation Team came at dusk. Not in helicopters, on foot, from a vehicle left somewhere well out of sight. One minute the clearing behind the mill was empty save for the long shadows of trees and the songs of a hermit thrush and a vireo. The next minute, three figures in black armour and helmets were stalking slowly toward the mill rifles at the ready.

Anne stood behind Virginia her hand on the other woman’s neck. Isabel was beside them watching through a crack in one of the big doors on the lowest level.

“What are you going to do, Anne? Back there at CRM? Jana double crossed you,” Isabel whispered.

“Another day, another CRM lie. My mission was to come get you, Doctor Cooper.” Anne jerked Virginia like a rag doll. “You had gone rogue; you were dangerous,” Anne spoke in Virginia’s ear.

Looking at Isabel Anne smiled. “I’m not that dumb. I know Jana always plays both sides of the court.”

Turning back to Virginia, Anne leaned in and nuzzled the other woman’s neck. “Just like you, Ginny. Isn’t that right?”

Virginia finally reacted giving Anne a sidelong look and a shrug of her shoulders. “We’ll see, darlin’.”

“Oh, girl! I do love it when you call me that!” Anne nipped at Virginia’s ear with her teeth. “I hope the helicopter is a long drive away. We can make out in the back of the truck on the way there.”

“I look forward to it,” Virginia said slowly as she turned her head to try to see Anne behind her. Anne was holding her now at arm’s length as she laughed softly. She didn’t see what Isabel did; Virginia’s sly sneer and the glint of craziness in her eyes.

After a few minutes, the CRM operators reached the spillway. Isabel nodded to Anne.

Anne didn’t move to leave the mill, just leaned a little closer to Isabel and whispered. “You should come back with us,” she said and smiled her inscrutable smile. “Just kidding.” Leaning closer still she spoke for Isabel’s ears alone. “Thank you for what you gave me.” Then even softer so that Isabel had to strain to hear. “You’re hers and she’s yours. I hope it lasts. I know it will.”

With a nudge to Virginia’s shoulder to get her walking ahead, Anne limped out to meet CRM.

**Morning, the next day**

Victor Strand was nervous when her saw the riders coming along the road from the north. He had talked by radio with Alicia the night before and knew that Virginia was gone and wouldn’t be coming back. He didn’t know the details and didn’t need to yet.

Anne had been cryptic with Alicia when he had overheard her telling Alicia that Virginia’s people might come looking for her with unknown intentions. Strand just wished that Alicia had made it back before the riders had come. She was on her way, he knew.

He stood beside the gate, rifle slung on his shoulder and waited. The lead rider, Virginia’s second in command probably, separated from the group and rode forward alone. He watched the rider approach. It was a woman, bigger than Virginia and she carried herself with a confidence that Virginia never had. Where Virginia was swagger and bravado, this woman was quiet intelligence and a confidence that easily put you at ease.

Strand had seen this in only one other person before.

The rider dismounted and walked, leading her horse, toward him. She wore a broad brimmed cowboy hat without the folded up side and on her lapel he did not see Virginia’s key symbol though there seemed to be a place where one had once been. Her hair was dark blond with streaks of grey and her face with its solid jaw and generous lips was the same as he remembered, just older and somehow more the better for it.

He almost leaped forward as if forgetting the fence was there. His fingers gripped the mesh and he knew he was gaping and didn’t care. Behind him he heard Daniel’s voice telling him to open the gate. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the older man smiling with a sweetness in his eyes Strand had never seen before. Beside him Luciana stood unsteadily her eyes wide and wet with tears. Beyond her was June, one hand to her mouth in shock.

The gate was pulled back, Strand never knew who did it, and she was in front of him.

“Hello, Madison.”

“Hello, Victor,” she touched his cheek and leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the mouth.

“How? Why?” He stuttered.

“Where’s my daughter?” She looked over his shoulder smiling and nodding when her eyes met those of Daniel, Luciana and June.

In a quirk of perfect timing, or perhaps the universe really was trying to tell them something, Strand saw the MRAP coming up the road from the south.

As Madison turned to watch, he took in her appearance: Jeans, boots, a heavy leather western style belt and holster and a plaid shirt. She was the same, yet different. Subdued with an aura of restrained power.

The MRAP came to a stop but Alicia was already out of the passenger side and running forward. When she reached Madison, she stopped, fell still. If asked later, Strand knew he would describe Alicia’s face as having only an inexplicable joy.

Alicia crashed forward into her mother her arms going around her as she slipped downward on weak knees. Madison knelt with her daughter and held her, Alicia’s face pressed into her shoulder, as the young woman cried.

“It’s OK, Alicia,” Strand heard Madison say. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

“You were gone…” Alicia tried to say.

“No one’s ever gone, ever, when you love them. And me? I’m still here.”

Back at the MRAP, Al gave a soft sob and turned her face into Isabel’s chest. Isabel knew if she was to write about this in her notebook – and she might sometime – she would say it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

**Epilogue, or John and June got married. **

It was a beautiful day, well into the fall. The clearing in front of the mill glowed with colour: reds, yellows, pale orange and everything in between. The grass where the horses grazed was still green and the lake beyond the mill was calm and sparkled with reflected sunlight. It was perfect. It seemed the universe had something to say about this day too.

On the second floor John and June stood together in the sunlight with their friends gathered in a semicircle before them. No one was dressed up. They all wore their usual clothes just cleaner and neater. John of course had his hat and his gun belt. June wore a plaid shirt with a bandana around her neck, jeans and boots.

They said simple words to each other; John slipping into something a little romantic and a bit cheesy that made the kids giggle. June smiled and kissed him and he blushed, nodding when everyone clapped.

When the clapping and well wishes died out, Al began to play her guitar and sing. When she sang the chorus of _You_, Charlie and Daniel joined her in simple harmony. A few people were wiping their eyes after that.

Al smiled at Isabel as she began _So Are You to Me_ the song that went with the phrase that had so much meaning to Al and her brother Jesse, and now to Al and Isabel. Grace joined Charlie on the harmony, her higher voice a perfect counterpoint to Al’s lower tones. One of Madison’s men played the fiddle part and the haunting notes soared in the excellent acoustics of the old mill.

As the last note faded, there wasn’t a dry eye in the gathering.

**Later **

Al found Isabel in her eyrie. Most of the guests had left except John and June who were sitting below on the old stone steps and holding hands. They had not said a word that Al could hear and it didn’t matter. They were alive and they were together.

Al wrapped her arms around Isabel’s waist and peeked over her shoulder. “I was watching you while I played,” Al said in Isabel’s ear. “I thought you might crack into pieces and fall on the floor. It pleases me that I can still do that to a girl.” Al said the last in a sexy, teasing voice. Tonight, they would sleep in the MRAP while the newlyweds took the second floor living area.

“I almost did,” Isabel turned in Al’s arms and kissed her long, slow and with a promise of something more to come. When they parted, Isabel settled her butt on the window sill behind her and smiled at Al. “I think we should open an acoustic coffee house. Maybe have an open mike night when you’re not playing.”

“You’ll have to beat off the girls with a stick when I play; or maybe use that serious scowl of yours,” Al tweaked Isabel’s chin.

“This one?” Isabel scrunched her face into what she hoped was her most intimidating glare.

“Ha ha! Not that! That just makes you look even more cute,” Al grinned and kissed Isabel again. When they parted this time, Isabel touched the healing scar on Al’s chin.

“I’m sorry about this. Your dimple isn’t the same.”

“Don’t be,” Al said lightly. “It just adds character, I think.” Leaning into Isabel, Al was content to just stand there in her lover’s arms. Running her hand along Isabel’s thigh and hip, something occurred to her.

“I think the coffee house needs poetry nights too. That will bring in the girls for sure.”

Pulling her notebook from her pocket, Isabel ran her fingers over the leather of the cover and looked at Al.

“I have something to share with you,” she said slowly. “After all we’ve been through, and the fact that we’re still here, now is as good a time as any.”

Opening the notebook to her favourite love poem, Isabel began to read.

You’re strong in my blood, hot in my veins  
Around you I orbit caught on your chain  
You my earthly bond, my morning sun  
My evening moon when the day is done

You’re tears on my face, a sting in my eye  
I won’t breathe should you say goodbye  
You my solid ground, and my wings to fly  
When the day is done and the night is nigh

You’re sugar in my mouth, cream on my lip  
Of your sweet pink wine, I ache to sip  
I hold on tight underneath you; held in your grip  
In the dark of night once the day has slipped

You’re the strength in my legs, the weakness in my knees  
In your power and passion I believe  
Everything you can do, all the things you will make me feel  
When the day is done the colour of night will reveal


End file.
